Fetal Truth
by 8BonnieBlue8
Summary: Something seemed to flicker in her gaze, like she was remembering something important, and she swallowed, fingers clenching. House knew that look all too well – Thirteen was hiding something again. Chase/Thirteen
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Right, well this is set sometime during season six. It'll probably be mostly AU after the Wilson episode since I live in Australia and they haven't shown any past then. I have gotten a little bit of extra information from Wikipedia but not much.**_

_**I've already done a few chapters and I don't think these first few are very good. But I think it gets a little better later on. Obviously, this is only the first chapter. **_

_**Also, I was wondering what pairing would be preferred. I love all Thirteen pairings (except for maybe Cuddy/Thirteen) but I was leaning towards Foreman/Thirteen and Chase/Thirteen for this one. Which is most liked? I would definitely like some input. **_

_**Enjoy.**_

…

_"I'd learned that some things are best kept secret."_

— _Nicholas Sparks (Dear John)_

House frowned in concentration as he deftly worked his way through the contents of the object in his hand. It had to be in here somewhere, that one piece of evidence he was looking for. Not that he really needed to find it to know he was right but it would make things more fun so that was enough incentive to continue. Plus, Cuddy was searching him out for clinic hours (she really should have learned to just give up by now) so as long as he remained in the girls' locker room he was relatively safe – she would never think to look for him in here, not at first.

His hand closed around something just as a voice broke into his thoughts; an angry voice by the sound of it.

"What the hell are you doing in my bag?"

"Ah, got it," he commented, ignoring her as he pulled out the pill bottle in his hand. He turned back to face an indignant, not to mention furious, Thirteen. "You're pregnant."

Her eyes widened even more, this time in disbelief. "No I'm not." The look on her face clearly suggested that she thought he was crazy. The woman was a reasonably good liar but certainly not good enough for his standards.

"For the past week you've been raging around like a bull in china shop, liable to bite anyone's head off at a given moment. Chase is still shaking in his boots from when you blew up at him yesterday."

Thirteen placed her hands on her hips, clearly not impressed. "You're exaggerating, I haven't-"

He cut in, not caring about her excuses. "Also, your breasts have gone up a size," he stated, eyeing the anatomy pieces in question. He was sure he wasn't the only one who had noticed this fact either, he'd caught Foreman staring the other day, Chase too. Even Taub hadn't been immune when she'd dropped her clipboard and bent down to pick it up.

She crossed her arms over her chest, blocking his view, and glared reproachfully at him. "You're unbelievable."

"You also refused the wine Taub brought in for Thanksgiving." That incident had gotten raised eyebrows from everyone – It seemed that Thirteen would be the last to refuse a drink.

"That's all you have? All those things can be rationally explained, House, I am_ not_ pregnant."

House nodded his head, pretending to consider that. "You're right; all those things can be explained. Except-," he paused long enough to toss the bottle of pills at her and she caught them promptly, turning them over in her hand in disbelief. "-prenatal vitamins."

She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing out. There was no questioning the fact that she was caught and they both knew it. Sighing, she placed the vitamins in her pocket and stepped forward, snatching her purse out of House's hands. "Well done, you figured it out. Now go."

House ignored this and watched her carefully as she turned and opened her locker. He'd been expecting more of a fight and was quite disappointed with her reaction. "Does Foreman know?"

She refused to look at him. "Who says it's Foreman's?"

"Who says it's not?" he quipped before turning serious again when her shoulders stiffened in agitation. He nodded towards her stomach. "Judging by the protrusion of your lower abdomen you're about three months along, if not more. So unless you were cheating on Foreman . . ."

"I didn't cheat on Foreman!" she snapped before he could continue that train of thought.

House nodded, already expecting this. "Fourteen's going to have a baby," he concluded simply.

She stashed the bag violently in the back of the locker. He heard a smash and resisted the urge to wince; he was feeling particularly sorry for her cell phone right about now. "No. No, they're not because I'm getting an abortion."

He eyed her closely for a moment, weighing up her words. "No you're not."

She turned to face him incredulously. "Excuse me?"

"You're too much like Cameron; you care about things too much. Besides, the fact that you're at least three months pregnant by now tells me that you've already grown attached to it. You've been putting it off. Which means you'll never go through with it."

"That means nothing. I'll go through with it because I have to. I'm not ready for a baby; I'm in the middle of a fulltime career, I just came out of a serious relationship and I'm currently dying of Huntingtons. I am not bringing a baby into this."

"You say that because you're trying to convince yourself that it's the right thing to do. It's noble but ultimately you won't go through with it."

She fumbled around in her locker, avoiding his gaze. House had a feeling she didn't even know what she was looking for in there. "It has a 50% chance of getting Huntington's like me. I'm not going to put someone else through this."

"Yeah, but you know there's tests you can get to find out whether that little bundle of joy is going to turn into a Minnie Thirteen." He eyed her closely as she continued to avoid his gaze. "Unless, of course, you've already taken the test and it came back positive."

Still no response which, in his opinion, was answer enough. Well, this changed things. If it had just been the other reasons that were convincing her to get the abortion then she wouldn't go through with it, and she'd be happier because of it, but the Huntington's chorea was just something that she couldn't excuse. The woman couldn't even play the card well-there's-a-50%-chance-that-it'll-be-fine-so-what-the-hell since she'd already taken the test.

Thirteen had been backed into a corner and she was acting appropriately. The only problem was that she wasn't at all happy with the decision she had made. It was easy enough to tell from the tone of her voice and the defensiveness in her posture.

"You're not going to tell Foreman?" he asked after a pause in which Thirteen remained silent, staring into the inside of her locker with a blank gaze.

"No. Is there any reason why I should?" she asked, slamming the locker door shut.

House cocked his head to the side at that one and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Well, not that I care, but he is the baby daddy. It's considered basic etiquette in most cultures to inform the baby daddy that there baby's going to be, you know, terminated," he told her with a 'duh' face.

Finally, Thirteen turned to look at him. "It's not a baby yet, just a foetus, a clump of cells, whatever you want to call it, but it's not a baby." She brushed past him angrily and House sidestepped out of the way just in time to avoid being hit in the face by a bundle of frustrated dying young doctor. "Besides, it's better if he doesn't know."

She could be right, House allowed. Foreman was an idiot when it came to her so it was probably the better idea not to involve him. The better idea, for sure, but certainly not the most interesting one. And, after all, what was the point if not to be interesting?

_**A/N: To be honest, I don't know whether they actually have prenatal tests for Huntington's chorea but let's just say for the sake of this story that they do. I'm pretty sure you can anyway. **_

_**I know it's only short and I don't think I really captured House's personality very well but I hoped you liked it anyway. This is probably the worst chapter I've done so far so let's hope the next one's better. **_


	2. That Old House Advice

_**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! So far I've received one vote for Chase/Thirteen which I was probably going to do anyway. So I'm thinking I'll do that one. I'm warning you, though, it'll be a while before it comes about and the pairing isn't going to be a main part of this story. This is mainly just going to be focused on Thirteen and I'll be visiting her past as well. **_

_**Also, I am not Foreman bashing in this chapter or any later ones. This is just House being House. I have nothing against the guy, I even like him sometimes, so don't think I'm bashing him. I'm writing this because when I reread some of this story, I went 'Ooh, poor Foreman. Everyone thinks he's an idiot.' Of course, if you don't like Foreman than you won't really mind. **_

_**Anyway, I hope you enjoy. And I love, love, love reviews. **_

…

"_Advice is what we ask for when we already know the answer but wish we didn't."_

_Erica Jong_

House twirled the cane in his hand as he thought idly about the events of that day. Chase was angry, Foreman was an idiot, Taub messed up, Chase apologised, Taub complained about his 'romantic' personal life, Foreman was an idiot, Chase messed up . . .

It basically continued in that manner.

To put it simply: a pretty normal day with the cottages. Except for the fact that Thirteen hadn't shown up for work, and just when House was planning on taunting her with the new titbit of information he had found out before the weekend, too. He'd even thought about dangling clues in front of Foreman's face (clues he'd be too much of an idiot to figure out) just to piss her off.

Damn, Thirteen, why did she always have to go and spoil his fun? Granted, she was often making that fun for him and what he considered fun tended to lean towards teasing her about her unfortunate illness but that was beside the point.

"I couldn't do it," a voice announced, stepping into _his_ office without invitation. _Only he's allowed to that to people, if anyone tries it on him it's just annoying. _

House's gaze flickered up and he caught sight of Thirteen, dressed in brown pants and a loose white top. Her hair was neat and pulled back in a pony tail, there were no signs of bruises, cuts or any other form of lacerations on her person. So clearly she had not gotten herself sent to the emergency room and would have to come up with another excuse for why she had not come into work that day.

"You didn't show up for work," he commented casually, turning his chair fully to face her. "The last time that happened you were in the land of drugs and topless girls." He smiled in reminiscence. "Good times."

She gazed at him in exasperation. "I called Cuddy up and told her I wasn't coming in today. It's not my fault that you've been avoiding her lately."

"I'm not avoiding Cuddy. I'm just making life harder for her, which is a far more honourable cause so get it right."

Thirteen just rolled her eyes and looked away. House smirked, pleased with himself.

"So, what couldn't you do?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You really expect me to believe that you don't already know the answer to that question?"

He pretended to think for a moment, pondering the question. "Hmm. Let's see. All people with mindreading abilities go over to that side of the room," he responded, gesturing with his cane at the white board. Nothing happened and Thirteen sighed in irritation, dropping her hands from her hips. House cocked his head to the side. "That's odd. I could have sworn there was at least one person crazy enough to believe they had telekinesis in this room."

"Yeah," Thirteen bit back, "and I'm looking at him."

Touché; that, plus everything else, could only mean one thing. "You tried to get an abortion." He leant back in his chair, eyeing her speculatively. The cane in his hand kept whizzing in circles.

The brunette didn't reply, looking away. That'd be a 'yes' then.

"And the fact that you're here means that you didn't go through with it and you want me to give you yet another reason why you should."

Still she kept her mouth shut but House didn't miss the underlying pain in her eyes. He wondered whether it would be too much of a stretch to say this was tearing her apart even more than her Huntington's; it was certainly tearing her apart as a result of her Huntington's. The fact that she wasn't drinking herself into an early grave already was just another testament to the fact that she really didn't want to get this abortion – it was bad for the kid. Unluckily for her, want was being placed on the backburner for now.

"Which is stupid seeing as we both know I can't give you anymore reasons you haven't already thought of. At least none that would make you sigh in relief and thank baby Jesus that God handed you such a wonderful doctor like me." He expected her to roll her eyes again at that one but she just stared at him. "Sure, I could tell you that keeping this baby would put a serious dent in my parade since I'd have to let you go on maternity leave, which means I wouldn't be able to annoy you nearly as much, but I doubt that's going to help your case." Still she remained silent and House paused, a new thought occurring to him. "Unless, you're not really here for me to convince you to get the abortion, rather you want me to give you a good reason why you shouldn't."

The shutter of her eyes and the pain and defeat creased across the lines of her face was all the answer he needed to know he was right. For once, being right didn't feel so good and House watched as she pulled out a chair from the centre table and took a seat. She shook her head, gazing at him.

"What do I do?" Thirteen asked at a loss.

He stared back at her for a moment, considering. Despite the way he treated his employees there were days, few and far between, where he found himself caring about what happened to them. Besides Wilson, they were the closest things he had to friends, or something. Thirteen was a special case, though. She reminded him too much of himself and that was unacceptable–there was only room enough for one House in this hospital. Therefore, he had to make sure that she didn't end up turning out like him. Considering that she would be dead in a short amount of years, he wouldn't have to be focused on the task for very long.

"I can't tell you what to do, and not only because I don't know myself. This is your decision," he paused for a moment, rethinking, "the idiot's too, possibly, and you need to make it for yourself. While Foreman may have played a part, he probably doesn't have anything important to add, though." She sighed, turning to face the wall. By the expression on her face, it was clearly the answer she had been expecting all along, just not the one she had wanted. "The question you should be asking yourself, though, is what would you rather live the rest of your life feeling guilty over? Killing your baby or giving your kid Huntington's? Either way, you're responsible for the fact that it dies. With the second one it just gets a chance to know that you're responsible."

Thirteen ran her hand through her hair, elbow resting against the table. For a while all she did was stare at the table top, then, "I told Foreman once I wanted kids."

House didn't respond, watching her carefully as she stared off into the distance. Whether there was anything interesting there he couldn't be sure but it sure seemed to have her attention.

Something seemed to flicker in her gaze like she was remembering something important and she swallowed, fingers clenching. House had a feeling it had nothing to do with what she had just said and his interest grew. He knew that look all too well – Thirteen was hiding something again.

The brunette shook her head, pushing the thought aside. "I still do," she said, returning to what she had previously been saying.

"Then have it," he interjected, rolling his eyes. "For God's sakes, it's not rocket science. You want a kid, you're pregnant, have a kid."

She shook her head, finally turning it to face him again. "It's not that simple," she denied.

"It's only not that simple because you're making it more complicated than it needs to be. No choice is the right one, so pick the one you want."

For a moment, she looked like she was beginning to actually consider his words and a flash of hope dawned in her eyes. House didn't really care for giving her hope or not, he just wanted her out of his office so he could watch porn on his laptop. Though, come to think of it, she would probably go for that as well.

Thirteen blinked and the hope was gone. "It'll never be that easy." He had to agree with her there.

...


	3. Baby Blues

"_Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we often might win, by fearing to attempt."_

_- Jane Addams_

Thirteen sighed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as the team shouted off random conditions that she couldn't be bothered paying attention to. Their patient was a thirty-something-year-old American male who looked like he had swallowed a yoga ball sometime in his life – that had been Chase's description – other than that she didn't actually know anything else about him. The man's file blurred in front of her eyes and she blinked.

Last night, the young doctor had been kept up by plaguing thoughts and internal dilemma's (not to mention morning sickness that couldn't tell time) and she was a walking zombie because of it. There was also the minor fact that she hadn't had much in the way of food for the last three days (unless sun flower seeds counted) because anything she ate always ended coming back up anyway. She was currently a mixture of exhausted, hungry and nauseas; though, thank god, she wasn't as hungry as she should've been after that long. That would just be torturous.

If the team noticed any of this, though, they didn't say anything; although, Foreman and House both seemed in a race to see who could burn a hole through her with their stare first. It would be unsettling if she wasn't too tired to give it more than a moment's thought.

In an instant, they were up and bustling out the door, leaving poor Thirteen behind to watch them go in confusion, wondering whether she was supposed to be doing the same thing as well. Judging by the exasperated and, perhaps, slightly amused look House was sending her that was indeed the case.

Remy opened her mouth to ask what she was supposed to be doing (and praying that he wouldn't make a big deal out of it) but the bitter old man beat her to the punch.

"Idiot and Racer have gone to search the patient's apartment. Big Nose has gone to run tests, which, technically since I told you to, you are supposed to be doing as well," he snarked.

She blinked as her tired brain tried to catch up to the nicknames he had just spouted out and who they belonged to. Remy blinked again, her mind coming up blank. "What?"

He narrowed his eyes at her in irritation. "How much sleep did you get last night? Ten seconds?"

That sounded about right, though she wasn't about to tell _him_ that. "Three hours." It was a white lie, a small lie, he wouldn't notice, especially since three hours wasn't that great either.

The doctor's eyes narrowed further and she knew she was busted. Before either of them could say anything, however, an agitated Cuddy came bursting into the room. This was a fairly normal occurrence; though, the toddler settled on her hip was anything but. Both House's and Thirteen's eyes zeroed comically in on Rachel, widening in the process.

"Oh, thank god, you're not busy," Cuddy gushed, her loud tone setting off the headache Remy just now realized she had. The younger brunette resisted the urge to wince and crawl beneath the table in a bundle of self-pity. She would save that for after House did his routine 'let's-embarrass-Thirteen' performance.

The dean completely ignored House, who was eyeing the front of her chest suggestively, and continued on. "The baby sitter called in sick and Lucas has work. I need someone to watch Rachel."

Thirteen's mouth opened and closed like a fish while House smirked in the background. It took a few attempts but she eventually managed to close it and bring it once again to working order. She swallowed. "House can watch Rachel."

Both of her elders sent her incredulous looks, clearly deeming her idea insane. In her mind, however, it sounded a lot more rational than handing _her_ the baby. What was Cuddy thinking? And was the world really operating to destroy her and make her life miserable like it seemed to be? It certainly was out to get her.

She was currently struggling with the huge dilemma of whether or not to kill her baby and the last thing she wanted to do right now was hold some kid and play happy mother to it.

House, apparently, didn't see the problem with it (or, perhaps he did and just wanted to screw with her) and spoke up. "Thirteen has the morning off. She'd be glad to look after your little bundle of joy."

"I do?" she questioned in a monotone, still in a state of shock. It took a while for the rest of his words to catch up to her but by then Cuddy was already heading towards her with the baby of doom. For this, Thirteen was so going to sabotage her boss's cane and delete his porn . . . among other things.

"Thankyou so much, Dr. Hadley, it won't be for long. I just have to hold a short conference with the surgical department and then I can have her in my office while I do paper work. I won't even be an hour."

"Really?" Because she'd been hoping it would be more like a five minute thing. Obviously not.

Cuddy smiled warmly at her for a moment before bending over and placing Rachel in her lap. Remy's hands instinctively reached up to support the toddler who smiled dumbly up at her mother.

"Bye, Rachel," she said before placing a gentle kiss on baby's forehead and, after sending Thirteen another grateful smile, exciting the room.

"B'Mummy," Rachael gurgled and Thirteen looked down at her, wondering what in the world she had just gotten herself into.

. . .

House stared at Thirteen and Rachel for a moment, taking in the care with which the younger doctor held the content baby, as if she was a fragile ornament that could break at any moment. There was clear discomfort and panic in the brunette's posture and eyes but at the same time she was absentmindedly tracing small circles on the baby's back.

At the risk of sounding too sappy, House had to admit that, despite her obvious unhappiness with the situation, having a baby on her lap seemed to suit her. It softened her normally sharp features and gave her a kind of warm presence that hadn't been there before.

All in all, he didn't think he'd be too upset if Thirteen decided to keep her baby. He frowned, limping over to the seat behind his desk; time to catch up on that porn.

. . .

Thirteen exhaled, trying desperately to slow her rapid breathing and beating heart. It was just a baby. It shouldn't frighten her. God, she was dying from an incurable disease and this was what she chose to be afraid of in comparison at the moment? It was weak and pathetic . . . and still fucking true!

Rachel glanced up at her, as if reading her thoughts, and she tried to smile, she really did, but it came out kind of wobbly. The toddler reached up and caught a hold of her hair and the brunette resisted the urge to tear it away. That was too close; it was too close.

Nausea rose in her stomach and she was reminded of her impending fate. She licked her lips, fighting it back, and the baby smiled.

She was a beautiful baby, she really was; all big brown eyes and smiles. It made her wonder what her own would look like–_could_ look like, if she had it. Obviously it would have Foreman's dark skin, though it would be lighter, perhaps more of a mocha shade? She wondered whether it would have her eyes, everyone seemed to love them, her father especially.

Remy winced, wondering where that had come from. She hadn't thought about her father in years. He was a taboo subject; her whole family was, but him especially.

She sighed, shaking her head.

It wasn't doing her any good to think about this, to wonder, because in the end it would all boil down to one thing. No matter how her baby looked, how beautiful it was, it was going to die prematurely; whether by artificial means very soon or by a horrible debilitating disease was still up for debate. One of her hands left Rachel and trailed to her stomach.

Could she really put her baby through that? Could she really sentence it to such a fate?

No, no she couldn't . . . but, God, she wanted it so badly, Remy realized suddenly, she really did. Holding Rachel in her arms was bringing about all kinds of maternal instincts and her mind was racing with the thousands of images and possibilities of what could be if only she didn't get that abortion.

But, no.

Suddenly feeling impossibly overwhelmed, Thirteen rose from her seat, House doing the same when he noticed her panicked expression. She walked quickly over to him, not sparing him a glance as she handed him the toddler and muttered a quick but shaky, "I have to go."

The brunette was off in a flash, House staring after her looking uncharacteristically flabbergasted, and it wasn't until she'd made her way downstairs, out the hospital doors to her car and looked in the rear-view mirror, that she realized she was crying.

"_I_ _have learned over the years that when one's mind is made up, this diminishes fear; knowing what must be done does away with fear."_

_- Rosa Parks_


	4. Past Decides

**A/N: Alright, I am definitely doing Chateen (or whatever we're calling it), so don't be worried by this chapter. Chase and Thirteen won't be coming together for a little while yet, simply because Thirteen has to work through a lot of her issues first, many of which involve Foreman (those two have to find their closure) and Chase also has to work through his issues with Cameron before he can even think of having a healthy relationship with Thirteen. I know that, after reading Wikipedia, he did that in one of the episodes but once again I haven't seen it yet so this is still pretty much AU after Wilson. In short, Cameron never came back.**

**Also, there have been some suggestions that the baby should turn out to be Chase's. I was so, so very tempted to go with this but decided against it because of two main reasons.**

**Foreteen may not be my most favourite of ships but I do believe that when Thirteen and Foreman were together they did really like each other (we even know that Foreman probably loved Thirteen – when he changed her off the placebo House said he would do it if he loved her). So I didn't want to tarnish that and say that Thirteen had cheated on him.**

**Poor, poor Thirteen is going to be going through a lot of dramas in this story and I think it would be just too cruel to place **_**THAT **_**particular one on her shoulders on her shoulders as well.**

**Also, for personal reasons, I don't feel comfortable doing a fanfiction where the characters are having affairs. **

**So, I guess that's actually three main reasons. (shrugs) Oh, well. **

**Anyway, the baby **_**is**_** Foreman's but that is as far as their relationship will be going in this story. I hope that doesn't disappoint anyone. **

**Oh, and thanks for the reviews! I really appreciate it.**

…

"_Where there is love, there is pain."_

_Spanish Proverb_

Foreman raised an eyebrow at the beer-hat resting on the patient's desk, having thought that only such a thing existed in the land of Homer Simpson. Chase had a slightly different reaction, however. He spotted the hat, widened his eyes for a moment, before allowing a grin to grace his lips.

"Cool," he said, walking over and picking up the hat. "I should get one of these."

If there was ever any proof that life without Cameron was not doing wonders for his colleague it was this. Not that Foreman could really complain – life without Remy wasn't doing him so great either. Speaking of Remy . . .

"Did Thirteen seem a little odd to you today?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant. He sniffed at something that might have passed for food on the table before retracting in disgust. Food poisoning could explain the patient's symptoms . . .

Only, House would never have picked the case if it was as simple as that.

Chase shrugged, still toying with the beer-hat. "It's Thirteen – she's always a little odd." Something broke off the hat and the blonde paused in his fiddling, hastily placing the hat back where it belonged. He cleared his throat after a moment. "Not that she's not entitled to a little oddness, of course. We all are really – working for House – and then there's her condition . . ." he trailed off, unbothered, while Eric resisted the urge to flinch at the reminder. "I wouldn't be too worried."

"Normally I wouldn't be but she looked horrible this morning." She really had, too; Forman had almost been convinced that she hadn't slept in years, judging by the circles beneath her eyes and the droopiness of her eyelids.

"She did," Chase agreed, moving onto the bookcase next. "But, really, you shouldn't be worried. Whether or not there is something wrong, it's no longer your place to worry about it. You guys broke up; you need to stop focusing on every little detail of her life, I doubt she'd want you to be."

Foreman sighed and nodded. "You're right." Though, to be honest, he didn't want him to be. Broken up or not, a part of him would always worry about Thirteen. She was an amazing woman. And he'd let her get away, or more correctly pushed her with all his might out the exit door of their relationship. He'd let his pride get in the way, not an uncommon thing, and now it was too late to rectify things. That was OK, though, he could deal with it. He hoped.

"Not that I don't understand, of course," the Aussie continued. "If Ali–Cameron was still around I'd be doing the exact same thing."

Eric frowned, looking over at his friend and colleague, feeling a bout of sympathy wash over him. "How are doing with that, anyway?"

Chase didn't look at him, placing a book back in the bookcase. It was titled: _Please Kill Me_; Interesting title. "I messed up. She's gone. Nothing to do about it now." He stared at the spine of the book for a moment, lost in thought. "I miss her."

. . .

House narrowed his eyes at the toddler on his lap. The creature gazed up at him unperturbed. This was not his idea of a good morning and his porn was already getting cold. Before he knew it the team would be back and he will have run out of time. Stupid Thirteen.

Who knew that convincing Cuddy to give her the baby in an attempt to provoke a soap-worthy reaction (Cuddy had taken all his soaps again) would result in him having to look after the little mongrel. There was no point in wiping snot and spit from a baby's mouth if you weren't going to get laid by the hot dean as a reward.

There was the sound of his door opening and Cuddy walked briskly in. Her shoes came to a sudden halt as she stared at the scene in front of her with wide eyes.

"What happened to Thirteen?"

"Huntington is pregnant. She got a little overwhelmed over Baby-Joy," he said in a conspiratorial tone. Rachel giggled.

"She – she's what?" Cuddy questioned, momentarily taken off guard.

"_Pregnant_. Up the duff. With child. Knocked up. Expecting. In the family way. Screwed." He smirked at that one and Cuddy shook her head in disbelief. "But, shh, don't tell anyone," he added with a wink. "It's supposed to be a secret."

Before Cuddy could even hope to respond the door to House's office opened again and his little ducklings made their way inside. House smiled pleasantly at them (it was the type of smile that would evoke unease in the strongest of people).

"Where's Thirteen?" Taub asked curiously, no doubt wondering why the other doctor hadn't joined him on the tests they were supposed to be doing together.

"Mama had to go on account of personal issues," House told, earning a glare from Cuddy. Foreman and Chase exchanged a significant look. "And, no, that's not code for I actually know where she went. If I did, I would have said something more like 'she's having sex with one of the nurses in the supply closet' and I would be there with a video camera in hand right now." He glanced down at Rachel. "Somehow I don't think that's where she went. Which is really a shame because that would just be hot."

"That's it. House, give me my daughter back," Cuddy demanded, obviously not wanting her little, impressionable angel to spend another moment in such a bad environment.

"What?" House feigned disappointment. "I feel like we were really starting to bond here. No joke."

. . .

_Remy Hadley shrunk back from her mother as the older woman started up another bout of shouting. Remy had gotten her hands on the last of the chocolate (it had been a race between her and her older brother, Benjamin) and she really hadn't thought that it would bother anyone, apart from Benny, of course. She hadn't expected her mother to have wanted that last piece and to be so upset over not getting it. _

_The words spewed out of the other woman's lips in disjointed exclamations of fury but if anyone asked Remy what she was saying she wouldn't be able to tell them. The nine year old wasn't paying attention to what her mother was saying, only to the tone with which she said them and the feeling of her own personal anger bubbling up inside her. _

_At first she had been shocked, then scared and hurt when the outburst had begun. Now she was just angry, so very angry at the unfairness of it all. Remy had been over to her best friend's, Michaela's, house and _her_ mother didn't shout at all. She was a nice young woman with synthetic blonde hair who baked cookies with them last Saturday. She spoke in soft, gentle tones that only escalated when Michaela tried to climb up onto the top of the roof (she was a monkey, that girl). _

_She wanted a mother like Michaela's. Or even just one that didn't shout so much and embarrass her in front of her friends. None of them would even come over anymore; they were too intimidated by Anne. _

_She just wanted a mother who didn't hate her so much._

_Her father tried to explain to her that it was the disease – Hunting or whatever – that was making her do it but that didn't make sense at all. She'd seen the movies and read the books – most serious diseases were like cancer and stuff. And they only made your hair fall out and your skin very pale. They didn't make you shout. _

"_Remy, look at me, for God's sake, when I'm talking to you!" Anne Hadley demanded and Remy clenched her fists, trying to keep the anger in and failing miserably._

"_I hate you!" she exploded, causing the woman to become momentarily stunned. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" She placed her hands over her ears, closed her eyes and screamed. It was a completely immature response from someone of her age but she didn't care. Months of boiling, bubbling emotions that had been kept beneath the surface rose out of the nine-year-old and it came out in a scream. Remy needed to scream, she needed to let it out. _

_She couldn't hear her mother when she screamed, she couldn't hear anything, only a dull ringing in her ears. That was better._

_And there was silence. The screaming stopped, her mother stared and the distant sound of her father's thudding footsteps slowed to a walk. All was silent._

_She should feel better now . . . but she didn't._

Thirteen swore as she slammed her hands down against steering wheel, narrowly avoiding hitting the horn. "Fuck!" She'd given up trying to stop the tears about twenty minutes ago and now let them run their course down her cheeks in an endless tide that she barely noticed anymore, the only sign of their presence being the never-ending sting in her eyes. Just like that time when she was nine years old, she wanted to scream. She wanted to shout at the top of her lungs and kick her feet and flail her arms about in an immature tantrum. But like before, the result would be the same – It wouldn't make her feel any better.

And the brunette wasn't a child anymore – she couldn't throw a tantrum. She had to sort this out rationally, like an adult. She didn't have the luxury of being anything else.

She couldn't do this. She couldn't have her child hate her the same way she had hated her mother. Remy couldn't curse it with the same disease she'd been given either. She just couldn't. It didn't matter that the thought of getting an abortion made her sick inside or that, really, all she wanted to do was curl up on a couch at home with one of those baby books that _normal _mothers got to have, reading all about just what was happening to the little being inside of her, even if she already knew most of it anyway. All that mattered was that, in the end, she was going to have to do the selfless thing and terminate that possible future before it had even begun because, in some twisted way, it was the right thing to do.

Her watery eyes glanced out her car's side window at the clinic across the road. A few people bustled in and out, caught up in their own lives and problems. For a moment, she would have given anything to just flitter out of this body and into one of theirs, become one of them. It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling – she hadn't wanted to be _her_ since she was seventeen years old, maybe even before that if she really thought about it.

Thirteen's hand unconsciously made its way to her stomach, tracing over the skin that rested beneath her cotton shirt. She could feel the bulge already, the evidence of what was inside, and for a moment she thought she might cry again.

Instead, she took a deep breath and reached for the door handle. "I'm sorry." And she was.

_"Buffy: The world is what it is---we fight, we die. Wishing doesn't change that. _

_Giles: I have to believe in a better world. _

_Buffy: Go ahead. I have to live in this one."_

_- Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Season 3, 'The Wish'_

**_A/N: And, yes, there really is a book called, PLEASE KILL ME, though I haven't read it. Also, don't be put off by Chase's whole blase-ness, just because he's acting that way around Foreman doesn't mean he actually doesn't care about Thirteen. _**


	5. The Problematic Aftermath

"_Problems are not the problem; coping is the problem."_

_- Virginia Satir_

...

The next morning, House gazed around at his little ducklings, searching not so discreetly for one sour-faced brunette in particular.

Black dude? Check.

Jewish guy? Check.

Pretty boy? Check.

Hot Baby Mama?

Not a sign.

Hmm.

"Where's Thirteen?"

Black Dude and Pretty Boy shared significant looks but otherwise kept quiet. If House didn't know any better, with the amount of looks those two had been sharing lately, he might have thought they were sleeping together. Jewish guy just looked mildly confused.

"Dr. Hadley rang up this morning. She's having a sick day," a voice said from the doorway and they all looked over to find Cuddy standing there.

"Doesn't anybody knock anymore?" House snarked, causing the dean to roll her eyes.

"Someone should go check on her." That was Foreman, putting in his idiotic two cents. "Make sure she's OK."

"That 'someone' mustn't have job. Focus people, we have a cool, shiny new case," House spoke up with false brightness. Cuddy shook her head in exasperation and walked off.

. . .

"_Get up, get out, get drunk. Repeat as needed."_

- _Spike on Buffy the Vampire Slayer_

_That Night_

Thirteen stared at the glass of J.D. in front of her, wondering how one little liquid could cause so many problems. All a man (or woman) needed to do was scull a few and they could end up in court, pleading guilty (or not, depending on the type of person they were) to the kid they'd just run over whilst under the influence. They could cause a person to cheat on their significant other, thus ending what otherwise might have been a flourishing relationship – the truth always came out – or even, as Remy had been witness to once before, cause a surgeon to make one fatal mishap in the operating theatre.

Alcohol could be the catalyst for so much, change so many things, and yet she had never shied away from it before . . . she doubted she ever would. For, no matter how much destruction the liquid could cause, it was still good for one thing, and that one thing she was almost always in need of – forgetting.

Thirteen was just lucky that she already had enough problems in her life that alcohol couldn't even hope to compare in the battle for her destruction. So it never tried.

Reaching out and gulping the shot down in one, Thirteen slammed the glass back onto the table. Greg, the bartender, gave her one of the looks he usually saved for the nights that she used to come over after a bad day of work, back before she'd decided to change her life around.

"Take it easy there, Rem," he cautioned. "I know you can hold your own but that's your eighth glass. Your brother will kill me if he ever finds out I served you all this."

Thirteen squinted her eyes, trying to make sense out of his words. OK, so maybe she was a little drunk. "You veen in convact wiv ma bovver?" Her words slurred slightly together and she shook her head, wondering how best to get her tongue to behave.

"Yeah, I have. Says he hasn't heard from you in over a year now. What's up with that?" Greg gazed at her reproachfully and frowned.

"You tely 'im where I em?" she asked, trying to sound angry but failing due to the apparent drunkenness. Thirteen hadn't started off this drunk; in fact, coming into the club three hours ago she'd been fine. Come to think of it, it might not even just be the drinks that were doing this to her. If she remembered correctly there'd been a bit of coke and ecstasy a while back as well. Along with a pretty blonde French chick who she'd dragged into the bathroom – she'd had something on her as well, by then Remy had been too far gone to ask what it was. She was lucky she hadn't had an overdose already.

"'Course not – you'd kill me. And you're a hell of a lot scarier than your brother," Greg responded as if she was crazy. "Though there was that one time he stuffed me in ta Mrs. Connelly's rubbish bin after I tried to make a move on you back in high school." He grimaced at the memory. "But that was after you decked me. My reputation was ruined following that." He shrugged his shoulders before swatting her hand away as she went to reach for the drink he was currently preparing for another customer. "Stop that. And don't give me that look, I'm cutting you off." He sighed and she frowned in irritation. "You know, I never understood how two kids who came from a good Christian family could be so damn scary most of the time. I mean, Benny's a god fearing man, you know, yet he stuffs me in a bin – what's up with that? I mean, that's gotta be some kind of sin, right?"

Thirteen groaned and set her head down on the table. She never should have started up a conversation with Greg – he never shut up. She smirked slightly, remembering the incident he was referring to and the hell she and Benny had received from their father once he found out. That was, of course, until he found out about Greg's intentions towards his only daughter – then it had been Remy and Benny trying to hold _him_ back.

The brunette was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't notice the man taking a seat beside her. Greg, on the other hand, suffered from no such thing.

"Oh, good, you're here," the bartender greeted. "She's gonna need someone to take her home. I would have cut her off earlier but she threatened me."

Remy frowned and looked over at the newcomer, her drunk mind just managing to recognise the familiar face. "Wha vu doving ere?"

He smirked slightly in amusement and turned back to Greg. "Exactly after how much did you cut her off?"

The other man looked suddenly anxious. "'Bout four. No, wait, five. Six! Seven, definitely seven." He nodded his head, agreeing with himself on that last part. "Might have been eight."

Remy giggled which was something she never did and both men raised their eyebrows at her.

"The giggling, though, that is not the fault of my drinks," Greg was hasty to point out. "I mean, she was doing Lord knows what before she wound up here."

The newcomer just nodded his head in understanding and rose from his seat. "I'll be taking her then. Come on, Rem."

Thirteen didn't much like the idea of being ordered around so she rose with the intention of slapping him a good one and ended up stumbling right on into his arms. The young man chucked slightly before, after an exasperated sigh, lifting her up into his arms like a small child. Now, Remy could have protested but in her hazed mind the position seemed pretty comfortable and instead she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head in his coat.

If she had been sober she might have done quite the opposite but she wasn't and she soon found that she liked where she was. It was a good distraction from yesterday's events. Closing her eyes, Remy breathed in the smell of the man's after shave and fisted a lock of blonde hair.

Just because alcohol had never gotten her into any real problems before didn't mean she never ended up regretting drinking so much the next morning. And, if she remembered any of this tomorrow, she had a feeling she'd definitely regret it.

. . .

House watched carefully from his place by the whiteboard as Thirteen reached for the file Taub was passing and winced slightly in the process, hand twitching instinctively to move towards her stomach. She retracted it at the last second and her eyes clouded.

The brunette had come into work that morning not so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and had taken up a seat opposite the others, slanting her chair as far away from them as possible. The expression on her face all morning clearly read stay-away-from-me-or-I'll-eat-you and, unfortunately, that wasn't nearly as dirty as it sounded in his head.

Her eyes were slightly red and puffy, whether from crying or not sleeping he couldn't tell. The latter sounded more like her but he wasn't so naïve as to think that as tough as Thirteen was she couldn't cry.

Apparently, House hadn't been the only one to notice the pained wince and Foreman spoke up like the good, concerned _ex_-boyfriend he was.

"You OK?"

She glanced at him sharply for a moment, panic filling her eyes, before nodding quickly and looking down at the file in her hand.

"Stop bugging her and go test the patient for Addison's disease," House interrupted, for some unknown reason choosing to do the compassionate thing and save Thirteen from a round of questioning. She glanced at him in startled amazement while Foreman reluctantly rose to his feet and left the room, Chase and Taub trailing behind him. The Australian however did spare her one last glance back, eyes worried, before disappearing after the others.

Once they were gone, Thirteen hastily slipped her hand inside her lab coat and pulled out a bottle of painkillers. House watched her speculatively as she dry swallowed a few.

"So, you did it." It wasn't a question and the brunette didn't take it as one.

Sighing, she placed her head in her hands and gazed down at the table. "I did it."

Again, for some unknown reason being surprisingly selfless, House made a decision. "Go do my clinic hours. You won't have to think nearly as much then." Normally, he might have thrown in some snarky remark but even he could respect the fact that now was not the time.

She had made a decision, one that she was clearly still struggling with, and the last thing she needed right now was him rubbing her nose in it. He might even be able to refrain from doing so for the rest of the week if she was lucky.

Thirteen glanced over at him, eyes hooded, and momentarily surprised. She didn't thank him but the gratefulness was all there in her eyes as she nodded her head and rose from her seat. The moment she got to her feet, however, her face paled and she swayed slightly.

House took a hasty step towards her but she was already hurtling towards the carpet.

. . .


	6. Behind Closed Doors

_**A/N: They just started showing House again here, so yay! Just saw the episode 'The Down Low' – so funny – and can't way to see the next one. I still can't get over House pretending that he and Wilson were a couple; classic! Anyway, since I've finally seen that episode I am going to say that everything in it did indeed come to pass before this story's beginning is set. **_

_**Wow, thanks a heap for all the reviews, they've really made me feel a lot better about this story. **_

_**There was something I wanted to point out, though. I've noticed that some people seem to think that Thirteen was doing alcohol and drugs whilst she was pregnant which wasn't the case at all. Rather, she resorted back to those things as a coping method after she got the abortion. I probably should have made that more obvious so sorry. **_

_**Also, there are flashbacks in this story that originally I had written intending to put in much later on but they seemed to fit more here. I hope they work out. **_

_**. . .**_

"_Joey: The only way two people can keep a secret is if both of them are dead._

_Lawyer: You mean if one of them is dead. That's the saying. _

_Joey: Obviously we come from different neighbourhoods."_

_- The Black Donnellys_

House gazed in on Thirteen through the hospital room's glass window. She was sleeping soundly in bed, probably the only good shut-eye she'd had in a long time and only possible because of the sleeping pills she'd practically been force fed. A nurse had given her a physical not long after she'd come around following her collapse and concluded – after doing a short history – that the young doctor must be experiencing a case of septic abortion. The brunette was just unlucky enough for that to be so.

She'd already taken the desired dose of medication and would be free to go home once she woke up again. All in all, she would be fine.

So why was he so worried?

There really was no need to be, especially since she was just Thirteen, so why was he still outside her hospital room waiting patiently for her to wake up? House concluded, somewhat bitterly, that it must have something to do with the two fellows he'd already lost in the previous years. It was getting to about that time of year where one of his ducklings was expected to go six feet under.

He'd felt for sure it would be Chase this year, though. The guy would die of alcohol abuse (an unhealthy habit he'd picked up after Cameron's departure). House already had his speech for the funeral planned.

There was the sound of footsteps and House looked over to see a confused Foreman approaching. This was bound to get interesting.

The other doctor took one look at him, one look at Thirteen through the window and then turned back to House with an accusing expression as if he suspected that _he_ was somehow responsible for this. "Why is Thirteen in a hospital room?"

"The question you should be asking is not, 'Why is Thirteen in a hospital room?' but rather, 'Why is Thirteen in one and I didn't know anything about it?' Trust me, the answer is far more interesting." He paused, reconsidering. "Maybe. They're both really juicy, actually," he informed him with a wink.

Foreman remained unimpressed. "What happened?"

"Jeeze, what _didn't_ happen?" House replied enthusiastically, happy for the chance to mess with Foreman. "Thirteen was pregnant. You were the father. She got an abortion. Now she's experiencing septic abortion. But, really, she should be fine."

For a moment, all Foreman could do was stare at him, eyes wide and uncomprehending. House was beginning to think that he still didn't understand what was going on and, really, there was nothing more the older man could do to spell it out for him. "You're joking?"

House frowned, eyeing Forman's head in a fruitless effort to check whether there really _was_ a brain in there. "Do I look like I'm joking? Wait, stupid question. Does the sight of your ex-girlfriend in a hospital bed give the impression that I'm joking?"

Finally, the information seemed to sink in and Forman took a step back, stunned. He craned his head to look in on Thirteen who was still sleeping peacefully, unaware of the drama that was unfolding right outside her room. House couldn't wait for when she woke up and for the fireworks that would ensue. He was definitely getting front row seats.

"She was pregnant?" he murmured, still focused on Thirteen.

"Do I need to draw a diagram?" Despite his snarky comment, House did feel a twinge of sympathy for the other guy.

Finally, Foreman turned back to face him, face creased in disbelief. "She terminated it?"

The teasing disappeared from the crippled-man's expression and he nodded soberly. A flash of anger mixed with pain appeared in the other man's eyes before quickly disappearing. He spared one last glance back at Thirteen before stalking off, muttering as he went, "I have to go run some tests."

Of course, House could have done the nice humanitarian thing and explained the whole situation to him and the reasoning behind Thirteen's decision, but what was the fun in that?

. . .

"_I think that if you know someone's good, you know it in your belly. And you trust that if they had to do something, they had no other choice."_

_- Helen Donnelly from 'The Black Donnellys'_

Chase watched his friend curiously as Foreman dug his fork into his cafeteria food in a particularly violent fashion. He winced sympathetically as a piece of lamb was skewered and torn in half. It was times like these that he was eternally grateful to be human and not something that wound up on one's plate – Foreman's knife grated against the plate with a sickening noise; _eternally grateful_.

"You're in a good mood," the blonde commented blithely.

Foreman stilled in his actions, closed his eyes as if debating whether or not to speak, and opened his mouth. "Did you know Thirteen was pregnant?"

Chase, who had just taken a sip of his coffee (which turned out to be of a scalding temperature), promptly spat out a mouthful. Luckily, the onslaught missed the other man's head by a millimetre and only a small amount splattered across his tie. Foreman didn't look very impressed with his response. "Where did that come from?" the blonde sputtered.

Foreman sighed and rubbed his forehead. "House just told me Thirteen was pregnant."

Robert eyed him in confusion. "'Was'?"

"She had an abortion." Another sigh. "Or so he says."

The blonde nodded, taking that in; that definitely sounded like House. All of a sudden, the 'oddness' Thirteen had been displaying lately started to make sense and Robert nearly kicked himself for his obliviousness – It really had been pretty obvious. All the mornings she kept running out of House's office to make a beeline for the bathroom; the round of drinks she'd turned down when they'd been celebrating thanksgiving; that little bit of weight she'd added on; all of it started making appearances in his head.

Not to mention . . .

Huh.

"And you think you're the father?" he asked in a deceivingly casual tone of voice, being sure to push the offending cup of coffee away from himself. God, he missed Australian tea; they just couldn't make it the way he liked in America. He shuddered, remembering the day he'd first arrived in the states and made the mistake of wandering into a diner and ordering earl gray tea. He'd been given a paper cup meant for milkshakes and some organic tea bag. Obviously, the rest of the tea making had been left up to his little mind. It hadn't gone well.

Chase was sure that somewhere out there, there was a coffee shop that excelled at making tea. He just hadn't found it yet.

Realizing that he was getting a bit off topic, the doctor returned his gaze to his friend. Coming to terms with the fact that this was a serious situation, he plastered on a concerned expression.

"According to House," Foreman answered with a nod of his head. "I just . . . don't understand why she didn't tell me. I could have been there for her, helped her out . . . I don't know."

Chase nodded in a very understanding manner and popped a chip in his mouth. "This is Thirteen we're talking about. She doesn't tell anybody anything." Both men nodded in unison, completely agreeing with the well-known fact. "You should talk to her, though. Don't take House's word on anything. If she aborted you're kid, then I'm sure she had a good reason." Probably anyway; you never could tell with women. "She's self-destructive; not an idiot."

Eric nodded his head slowly, mulling that over. "Maybe you're right."

"Of course, I am. It's me we're talking about," the blonde responded, taking another fry. "Just talk to her, mate. Everything will be explained. And, for the love of God, don't listen to anything that comes out of House's mouth." Chase had learnt that lesson the hard way.

….

**"_It is difficult to know at what moment love begins; it is less difficult to know that it has begun."_**

**_- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_**

_The Night Before_

_Chase sighed as Thirteen burrowed her head into the crook of his neck and he hefted her up a little higher in his arms. She was drunk, very drunk. Probably drunker then he'd ever seen her before. When the blonde had come into the bar (sometimes pub)/ club – the two places were conjoined – he hadn't expected to find her there, mostly because in all the times he'd been getting together with her he'd never seen her take one sip of alcohol. He still didn't know why that was._

_Obviously, tonight was different, though, because Remy was definitely drunk._

_He frowned at Greg who was watching Thirteen with a slightly guilty smile. He didn't know much about the guy but in the two times that he and Thirteen had come in here together – for dinner – he knew that the bartender had a past with the young doctor and they knew each other well. Chase had decided against enquiring into that past, mostly because he knew Remy would never give him a straight answer and also because doing so would mean that he cared about her, might even suggest that they were in an actual relationship. Which they weren't. _

_Then again, opting to take her drunken-ass home sounded pretty relationship worthy. No doubt she would be angry with him about it tomorrow. Still, it wasn't like he could just leave her here. _

"_Any idea what brought this on?" Chase enquired, jerking his head slightly at Thirteen who seemed to have found something to focus on in the stripes of his shirt collar. _

"_Not a clue. Couldn't get a word out of her," Greg replied. "Stubborn little firecracker. But she did seem to be in a bad way when she first showed up. You guys didn't get in a fight, did yah?"_

_Chase shook his head. "For the last time, Greg, we're not together."_

_The bartender scoffed and whipped the towel off his shoulder, choosing to wipe down the bar with it. Some girl had spilt a martini there during the night and Greg decided that now was as good a time as any to clean it up. "Seem pretty together to me."_

_The blonde frowned but decided it would be a waste of time to protest any further. "Has she payed yet?"_

"_Nope."_

"_Put it on my tab?"_

"_You got it," he replied easily, gazing at the table top as he made a carefree wipe. He glanced up at the young Australian and tried to put on his best 'intimidation' face. "You just take care of that girl, though, won't yah? A lot of people will be out for my hide if anything happens to her on my watch. And, trust me, these people have a way of finding out. Or, at least, they did when I was back in high school."_

_The blonde nodded, "I'll keep it in mind," and turned to leave, the soft snoring on his neck the only sign that his companion had otherwise left him for the land of dreamtime. He smiled affectionately, cupping the back of her head, and carried her out of the bar._

…

_Chase frowned in concern as he set Thirteen down on her bed, brushing a strand of hair out of her face and crouching down in front of her on the floor. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused – the blonde didn't need to guess why – and his frown deepened. He just couldn't work it out. The doctor had been on the straight and narrow for over a year now, so why the sudden turn?_

"_Hey, Rem," Chase started, cupping her face and catching her gaze. "What's going on? What's up?" Thirteen's eyes welled and she glanced away. "Hey, you can tell me. It'll be just between us."_

_The brunette just shook her head and looked back at him, lips clamped tightly shut. "I can't . . .I . . ."_

_And the next thing Robert knew he had a handful of hot young doctor in his arms and Remy was burying her head in the space between his neck and shoulder. The next thing he noticed were the tears, hot and wet against his skin, and then the shaking of her shoulders as she sobbed._

_He had never seen Remy Hadley cry before and was shocked to be seeing it now, even more so because she had chosen him to do it in front of. Whatever was going on, it must be serious for to react like this and his concern grew._

_Making a decision, Chase rose from his position on the floor and clambered up onto the bed, being extra careful not to let go of Thirteen. Then, gently, he guided her onto his lap and held her. Chase wrapped his arms tightly around her and rubbed her back as she cried, smoothing out her hair._

_He didn't know what this was about and was even less sure whether he wanted to know but for now he knew she was at least safe – instead of alone in some dingy bar/nightclub she was safe – and that was enough; even if she wouldn't remember any of this in the morning and perhaps that was better, for both of them. _

_All the while he tried to ignore the tear in his heart, a response to seeing her like this. Admitting that it was there was like admitting he cared more about her than he should and he wasn't ready for that, not yet. He wasn't ready to care for another person like that – not after Allison – neither of them was. _

_. . ._

As soon as Foreman left the table, Chase allowed his nonchalant mask to slip and he frowned, leaning back in his seat in a state of disbelief. The events of the night before raced through his mind and he blinked as everything finally seemed to add up. Yes, the fact that Thirteen had been pregnant explained a lot.

. . .

_**A/N: Uh, I hope this wasn't too bad. I was very anxious about making Thirteen break down like that in this chapter considering it is, after all, Thirteen but eventually I managed to convince myself (don't know how) that she was drunk enough for something like that to happen. Hope it wasn't too unrealistic. **_

_**Love, love, love reviews and very much appreciate any criticism as it can help me to improve. Also, if anyone wanted me to put something in particular into this story, like a scene, don't hesitate to suggest. I'm not promising I will put it in but if I can manage to work it in then I will. It doesn't even have to do with Thirteen if you want something to happen with any of the other characters tell me. **_


	7. Symptons of Denial

_**A/N: So sorry for the long update. This chapter is reasonably long so I hope it makes up for it. Also, thankyou so much for the reviews, without which I wouldn't have the confidence to post this story. **_

…

"_The worst lies are the lies we tell ourselves. We live in denial of what we do, even what we think. We do this because we're afraid."_

_- RICHARD BACH_

Thirteen gasped, blinking furiously, as she came back into the land of consciousness. Her mind echoed with the screams of her nightmare and her hand instinctively went to the scar on her right cheek, chest heaving with the effort it took to regain her breath. For a moment, she struggled to _remember_ how to even breathe.

The experience was made all that worse by the fact that House was sitting beside her bedside, idly twirling his signature cane between his fingers. Remy debated whether anyone would really blame her if she was to take that cane and hit him over the head with it. Really, she'd be doing the world a favour.

"Nice sleep? Did you have a nightmare?" her boss asked with false concern and she grimaced.

She groaned, closing her eyes and resting back against the pillows. "When can I get out of here?"

"About now, well, after we've had this little chat." There was a pause. "Foreman knows by the way."

Remy's eyes snapped open and she looked at him in alarm. "How would he – Oh, no, House, you didn't?"

House's gaze flickered towards the ceiling guiltily, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I may have let something slip. You wouldn't believe how hard that guy is to lie to."

Thirteen stared at him in angry disbelief. "I can't believe you! How could you do that?"

He just shrugged his shoulders and the brunette really wanted to hit him with that cane. Really, it was a very strong urge. She might even have to start taking anger management classes just so she could continue working with the man.

"It really wasn't that hard," was his only response and Thirteen let out a sigh, falling back onto her pillow and gazing up at the ceiling with an expression that clearly said, 'Kill me now.' Or possibly, 'Kill House now.' Both had their perks.

She thought vaguely about Foreman and what she should do. Should she apologise? She _had _aborted his kid without telling him, it seemed to warrant an apology, if he would even talk to her that was. Remy closed her eyes at the memory of what she'd experienced just mere days before. It wasn't something she ever hoped to repeat and she remembered with startling clarity the ultrasound machine that had been used to find the exact position of her ba – the fetus. The young doctor had very nearly backed out there and then when she caught a glimpse of the thing that wasn't just a clump of cells swimming on screen.

She wouldn't blame Foreman for hating her. She was doing a pretty good job of it herself.

"Where'd you get that scar?"

A muffled voice asked and Thirteen was disgusted upon looking over to see House munching quite contentedly on a egg and bacon sandwich, evidence of his meal very much apparent in his open mouth ; any appetite she might have had beforehand was immediately lost.

"What?"

House rolled his eyes. "The scar on your cheek. Where did you get it?"

Remy's eyes widened in disbelief. "I've worked with you for over two years now and you're just asking about it today?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "It's a scar, it doesn't matter. Unless of course one pays as much attention to it as you have these past few weeks. Then it matters."

Thirteen frowned, thinking hard. She hadn't realized it but she probably had been running her fingers along it a lot more lately, the mark a constant reminder of something she'd much rather forget, and House was just obsessive enough to notice. "I fell off my bike in Stanley Park. We went there for a holiday when I was sixteen."

House stared at her for a moment and Thirteen tried desperately to hold his gaze. After a moment he smirked, eyes glinting. "Liar."

Remy bit her lip and tried to think of a comeback but before she could even try, the other doctor's eyes narrowed considerably and he leaned in closer, inspecting her face. "You're sweating."

"What?"

He reached out a hand and, before she could even protest, placed the back of it against her forehead. A frown creased his face. "And your fever's gone up even higher. You're also paler than usual and your heart monitors been hammering away for the past hour. I just thought it was trying to annoy me."

"So?" she asked, too caught up in her other problems to follow along with his abnormally big brain. Vaguely, she remembered a time a couple of years ago when she had done the same thing to him. She also remembered how he had put caffeine in her coffee not long beforehand and once again had to resist the powerful urge to hit him with his cane. The brunette really was quite impressed with her self-control.

"_So_ the idiot nurses were wrong. Whatever's making you sick, it's not septic abortion."

. . .

Chase frowned in his seat at the table in the differential room. Foreman and Taub had gone to inform the patient that he did indeed have Addison's disease and House was currently in his office, juggling his ball with half-hearted focus.

The blonde couldn't stop thinking about what had been revealed earlier. Thirteen had been pregnant – it was an idea he couldn't quite wrap his head around – and although Foreman had mentioned that House had told him the baby was his, House didn't know everything. For instance, he didn't know that Chase and Thirteen had been involved in a strictly no-strings-attatched series of one-night stands and, to be honest, Robert would be an idiot if he didn't consider the possibility that the baby Remy had aborted had been his.

He didn't know how he felt about that, if it was true. Kind of stunned, really.

There was the sound of footsteps but Chase barely noticed, too consumed in his own thoughts to even raise his head.

"You're not the father," a voice told him nonchalantly and the blonde's head shot up in surprise just in time to catch House coming out of his office.

"How did you – Thirteen and I haven't been sleeping together!" he quickly caught a hold of himself just in time to deny whatever his boss was implying.

House merely rolled his eyes. "Next time you want to keep a secret affair _secret _don't make out in Wilson's office while he's out getting me lunch. You know he tells me everything."

The Aussie tried not to blush, remembering that particular episode House was referring to. It wasn't like it had been planned or anything. It was just . . . they'd both been through a particular stressful day at work and had rather spontaneously decided that the best way to fix this issue was to have sex. It seemed simple enough and, since they were both standing outside Wilson's vacant office at the time, even simpler to do it in there – he had blinds. It wasn't like they hadn't already been using the same coping method for two weeks already and it seemed to work fine, they just hadn't brought it into the work place yet. This had probably been a very smart idea on their part, seeing as, apparently, they'd been spotted as soon as they'd gone against it, and by House's best friend no less.

He allowed that to sink in for a moment before House's earlier words finally caught up with him. "You said I wasn't the father?"

"The dates don't match," House informed hi,. "Unless of course you were having an affair with Thirteen a month before her relationship with Foreman ended. Which would just have been really bad of you as a friend." Judging from the look on the older doctor's face, it seemed as though he was almost hoping that Chase would indeed admit to that, if only to evoke more drama in the workplace.

The blonde's shoulders sagged as he was overcome with a wave of relief. He didn't know what he would have done if that baby had been his, especially when his best friend was under the impression that it was _his_. Chase had a feeling their relationship would have been damaged beyond repair and Thirteen certainly wouldn't have gotten off Scott-free.

He also was nowhere near the emotional state prepared for such a blow. Chase had always wanted kids and while now would have been the most horrible of all times for one it still would have hurt to lose it like that.

He didn't envy Foreman's position and made and a mental note to make sure his friend was doing OK a little later. He almost made another note one to check up on Thirteen but stopped himself – that wasn't his job.

"We're not having an affair," Chase sighed. "It's really just . . . sex." He knew most people would feel uncomfortable discussing such a subject with their boss but this was House and as it was, the blonde only found himself uneasy and worrying about the fact of whether House would spread this around the hospital in the next fortnight.

House gazed at him for a moment, studying his honesty before finally responding with a decided, "You're an idiot."

Now Chase was confused. "What?"

"It's Cameron and you all over again. You're saying that it's just meaningless but you're really only deluding yourself. You and Cameron both did the same thing," he responded simply.

The blonde scowled. "This is nothing like Allison and I. I was in love with Allison, I'm not in love with Thirteen."

"There are about hundred different women you could have chosen for a bed partner in the last few weeks, instead you chose_ her_, your colleague – your_ dying _collegue. You must have known there would be complications, especially since she's your friend's ex, and yet you chose her anyway. It means you care about her, which means the sex is not meaningless and you're doing the same thing you did with Cameron. You're going to fall in love with her because you're Chase and she's going to deny you because, well, because she's _Thirteen_. Then you're both going to be miserable. Doesn't matter when it happens, next month, next year, after you're _married_. It's still going to end the same way," House insisted and Chase sat back in his seat, not wanting to believe a word coming out of his boss's mouth but knowing the logic behind it nonetheless. "So, I'll say it again: _you're an idiot_."

The blonde thought back to the night before, the feelings that had arisen in him upon seeing Remy in such a devastated state, and knew, as much as he hated to admit it, that House was right. And he couldn't afford for him to be right.

It had barely been two months since Cameron had left and he still felt the sting of her departure, still spent countless nights awake on the couch, waiting hopefully for her to walk in through the door. It was pathetic really, when he knew she wasn't coming back, but he still hoped. Then on the side he was having an affair with Thirteen who, as much as he tried to deny it, he did care about. Last night had proved as much.

The idea of falling into another relationship so soon, though, made him queasy and he was even more terrified by the idea that, if they did ever get together, House would be right and it would all just fall apart. He couldn't go through what he had been through with Cameron a second time and it would be inevitable if they got together because, whether or not she left him, she was still dying.

The blonde felt a sudden wave of empathy for Foreman and wondered how the man had managed to hold it together whilst he was together with Thirteen. He knew Eric had loved her and Chase couldn't begin to understand what it would be like to know that the person you loved was dying and ignore the fact anyway. Suddenly, the decision Foreman had made whilst doing the drug trial to swap Thirteen off the placebo made a lot more sense and wasn't nearly as stupid as Chase had first thought it was.

What_ was_ stupid, though, was that, right now, the blonde didn't know that, if given the same option, he would choose to do any differently. The knowledge of this made it even harder to convince himself that he wasn't falling for Thirteen.

"Yeah, I guess I am," he sighed, agreeing with House's earlier statement. It seemed like a logical one.

Burying his head in his hands, Chase sighed; _crap_.

. . .

_**That Morning**_

_Thirteen blinked, slowly coming into awareness. The scenery around her blurred and she pressed her eyes together to ward off the strange sensation of shapes. To make matters worse, what appeared to be a sledgehammer was making itself at home in her head. Groaning, she reached up and cupped her forehead, grimacing in the process. Something behind the young doctor shifted and it was then she noticed the arm, slung protectively over her waist, and the hot breath on the back of her neck. Blinking once more, this time in confusion, she gazed down at the arm, determining from close inspection that it was of masculine form. That was about all she could find out just by looking. _

_Carefully, the brunette reached out a hand and clasped onto the arm, unwinding it gently from around her. There was a snort behind her and she froze, thinking she had been caught, but after a pause of long stretching silence she allowed herself to relax once again._

_Head aching, she slid out from the man's grip and rose to her feet, wobbling slightly. Turning around, she was confronted by the sight of Chase, snoring away on her bed above the sheets. He was fully clothed, something that proved to unnerve Thirteen. The knowledge that they'd had a quick screw she could deal with, they'd been doing that exact thing for the past few weeks after all, but knowing that they had actually _**slept**_ together, completely clothed and without any funny business, was something else entirely. _

_The fact that her body was practically itching to return to those arms wasn't helping matters either. _

_What the hell had happened last night?_

_All she could remember was showing up at the nightclub and then . . . nothing. _

_Biting her lip, Remy inserted her hands in her jacket pockets, searching for something. She found it in the form of a small plastic satchel; she fingered it between her fingers and felt the grainy powder within. That certainly explained a lot._

_Shaking her head and deeming it a problem she would have to deal with another time, the brunette turned away from the bed and headed towards the bathroom. If she skipped the shower and changed her clothes quickly enough, she might be able to make it to work before Chase woke up._

_Thirteen wasn't exactly eager to find out what she had done the night before, especially what she had done in front of _**him**_. So, head pounding and stomach aching, along with a desperate urge to throw up that wasn't about to go away any time soon, she snatched whatever she could find off the dresser and opened the bathroom door. _

_Today was going to be one hell of day; she could just tell. _

_. . ._

House made his way into the differential room, ignoring the ducklings seated at the table, and limping over to the white board. Taking up the black marker, he wrote in large letters across the top, 'JANE DOE,' and then, underneath that, 'Nausea, vomiting, fainting, high fever, anemia, vaginal bleeding and discharge, abdominal pain, hot.' He then put a little smiley face next to the last part to accentuate the point.

He turned around to face three frowning fellows and . . . he gave a mock startle upon noticing Thirteen, curled up in the farthest chair. "What are you doing here? I readmitted you." Somehow, she'd changed out of her hospital gown and into her clothes from that morning. She was pale, pasty and looking, overall, awful. But still surprisingly hot; there was something sinister about that.

"I convinced one of the nurses to let me come up," she replied easily, sounding only half as sick as she looked. Considering how she looked, though, that wasn't much of a compliment.

House leaned in towards the guys and said, in a voice loud enough for the young woman to hear, "That's code for: she slept with one of them." He winked informatively and the three men rolled their eyes. Thirteen glared.

"Who's Jane Doe?" she demanded, instead of denying his words. He took this to mean they were true.

"Why, you are," he responded as if it was obvious. "And I got all these lovely symptoms from the nurses. They were surprisingly eager to help." After all, he'd needed to get it from them since Thirteen had made a point of ignoring all his 'medically' orientated questions.

Her frown deepened. "I'm your case?" she asked at the same time Taub questioned, "You're sick?"

Chase just chose to look at the brunette in concern, obviously worried by her pallid colour, while Forman stared quite fiercely at the table top.

House sighed in exasperation as if he had been confronted by two incredibly dumb children. "Yes and yes. Can we get on with the case now?"

"Which is me. I don't want to be your case," Thirteen protested to which House only ignored her.

"It's obviously Endometritis," Taub commented, staring thoughtfully at the board. Just like House, he didn't seem to care about what Thirteen did or didn't want.

"Fine, let's treat for that," Thirteen said, quickly giving up on trying to convince everyone that she wasn't the case. Now she seemed to be working the angle the-quicker-we-solve-this-the-quicker-it-will-be-over.

House considered this for a moment. In all likelihood Big Nose was correct but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something worse going on and he had never been wrong before. Still, it wouldn't do any harm to treat her for it anyway.

Suddenly, something caught his attention – a thin trail of crimson making its way down the front of Thirteen's face. "Your nose is bleeding."

She frowned, reaching up to cup her nose and stem the blood flow. Quickly, Chase rose from his seat and grabbed the tissue box off House's desk. Smiling sympathetically, he handed it to the young doctor who nodded in thanks – her own knight in shining armour; how cute.

House scowled. "Endometritis doesn't cause nosebleeds."

"Thousands of things cause nosebleeds," Chase denied, taking a seat once more. "It doesn't necessarily mean an underlying medical condition."

House opened his mouth to protest (mostly just for the sake of protesting) but stopped. There was something beckoning to him on the top of Thirteen's wrist as her shirt sleeve rolled back and she held a tissue to her nose. "You have a fresh nightclub stamp on your wrist."

Immediately, she froze. Everyone (though Chase's expression seemed relatively forged) glanced at her in shock, even Foreman looked up from the table long enough to stare at her in disbelief. She lowered her hand slowly from her nose, the bleeding by now having lessened.

"What's your point?"

"You know, generally when you take a sick day after getting an abortion you don't go out clubbing. Kind of defeats the purpose of the sick day," he commented nonchalantly, causing her eyes to widen slightly. As interesting as he found her bad habits, he couldn't deny that he had been relieved when they had ended, considering her self-destructive nature had very nearly gotten her killed.

"What I do in my private life is none of your business."

Taub gazed at her, clearly confused by the whole thing. "'abortion'?"

House ignored this. "Did you have sex? Do any drugs? And, yes, that last one is medically relevant."

She remained tight-lipped which House took to mean as a 'yes', on both accounts. He didn't realize that the fact that she didn't answer was more because she couldn't rather than any real show of stubbornness – Thirteen had no idea what she had done last night.

"Can we get back to the diagnosis?" Foreman spoke up, not looking at them. His eyes were narrowed angrily at the table top once more, though, and House, mercifully, dropped the subject; for now anyway.

"She's just had an abortion," Chase stated and Thirteen flinched slightly at the word, almost imperceptibly. Nevertheless, he noticed and sent her a sorry look. "The vaginal bleeding isn't even abnormal."

"It is if it lasts," House denied.

"Which means we have to wait and see if it does."

"Great idea, except for the fact that waiting usually gets the patient killed," the old doctor snarked earning a scowl from the 'patient' in question. "No offense, Hot Mama." Nevertheless, he moved over and crossed out the 'bleeding' next to 'discharge' and added below, 'nose bleed'.

"Why has 'hot' been added as a symptom?" Taub questioned, choosing to give up on trying to figure out what was going on. He looked to be getting quite a head ache from the effort.

"Well, no-one sick should look that hot. Obviously it's a symptom."

"You're a pig," she stated with a scowl.

"Yet, surprisingly, I'm the pig you chose to confide in. It just makes me feel so honoured," he replied, touching a hand mockingly to the place where his supposedly heart was. She rolled her eyes, obviously coming to the conclusion that it would be a waste of time to point out that she hadn't confided in him – he'd gone through her handbag. "Next diagnosis, please?"

_**A/N: Now, I know I said earlier on that it would be a while before Chase and Thirteen started their relationship, and that still holds. To me, what they've been doing so far doesn't really count as any kind of healthy relationship. **_

_**Also, I am not a doctor, I haven't been to med school, I basically suck at science and I haven't even finished the 9**__**th**__** grade yet so any medical facts in this chapter and future ones I am basically getting off the internet, after many long hours of research. So, if something is wrong, please blame the internet. **_

_**Last but not least, there's a fanvid I made of Thirteen at: .com/watch?v=H69WKuE0adU if anyone wants to watch it. **_


	8. Ignorance is Bliss

"_Better be ignorant of a matter than half know it." _

_- Publilius Syrus (~100 BC), Maxims_

"Jackpot." House grinned as his gaze fell on a little black book, tucked safely away in the bottom drawer of Thirteen's bedside table. The dying doctor had been sent back to her hospital room, finally admitting (after almost another round of fainting) that maybe she did actually need the rest. Then, unbeknown to her, House had piled his 'eager' little ducklings into Chase's car and ordered the young Australian to drive them over to Thirteen's house. He'd then used the key he'd gotten from Lucas to break into her humble abode and, well, here they were – picking through the woman's things and eating what was left in her pantry.

All for medical purposes, of course.

Foreman looked over at him irritably as House opened the book up at a random page. "Dear Diary, today House was his incredibly sexy self again. I swear, if he wasn't my boss I would have pushed him against the wall and had my hot, lesbian way with him," the doctor said in a high girlish voice.

"It doesn't say that," the African-American stated with a scowl.

House only looked over at him with wide, honest eyes. "No lie."

Foreman's scowl deepened and he snatched the book out of his boss's hands. He looked down at it for a moment, before announcing, "It says 'House was a jerk' and 'I wanted to hit him with his cane,'" he finished, glancing up and sending House a pointed look.

"It also says Foreman was an idiot," he responded without pause.

The other doctor looked confused. "What? Where?"

"Nowhere. But the fact that you believed me proves my point," House told him, earning an unimpressed look from the other man. The head diagnostician shrugged his shoulders and limped away, concluding that you just couldn't please everyone. "She should really see someone about those anger issues of hers. I mean, hitting a cripple with their own cane, can you imagine?" he asked in a voice of mock horror.

…

_Meanwhile_

Chase frowned as he searched through Thirteen's laundry room. He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel a little invasive about going through her things, especially since after sleeping with him for over a month she'd seemed to trust him in her house; a point she'd proven one time when she'd gone out to pick up some last minute groceries and left him alone in the house, working on a patient's report for Cuddy. It was probably one of the most couple-y things they'd ever done and neither of them had mentioned it again after she'd finally gotten home and they'd moved onto the more X rated experiences of that night.

Sighing, the blonde made his way over to a cupboard by the sink and opened the doors. There wasn't much in there, bar a few towels and wash cloths, but there was a small brown box resting at the top, shoved into the corner and hidden behind a few blue towels. He didn't know what a box could have to do with why Remy was sick but years of working with House had taught him not to discard things too quickly; you just never knew.

Reaching up a hand to grab at the box, he accidentally knocked it onto its side towards the edge of the shelf, the lid falling off and sailing towards the ground along with another object that quickly followed its descent. A smash sounded and Chase winced, hoping Thirteen wouldn't kill him later for property damage, before bending down and picking up the object.

It was a photo frame, covered in dust, and Chase stared at the photo within in confusion. The glass covering the picture was cracked but the blonde barely noticed. He couldn't understand why Thirteen would have something like this tucked so far away in her cupboard. It didn't make any sense and, after thinking about it for a few more minutes, he decided that it still did not make any sense. He would have to ask her about it sometime.

There was the sound of Foreman and House's voices approaching and Chase hastily hid the photo back in the box, closing the cupboard door. He didn't know why Thirteen wanted to keep it hidden away but he doubted that she wanted House to find out about it so that was enough incentive to go along with her wishes.

Hastily, he searched about for something that could be used to take House of the scent. His gaze fell on her laundry basket and he frowned, an idea forming in his head.

_No_**, **he couldn't; could he?

…

"You're not going to find anything, you know," Foreman pointed out, knowing that House's reasons for coming here were less to do with medical purposes and more to do with his own curiosity.

"There has to be some sort of incriminating evidence around here somewhere, a naked picture of her and some girl, or something," House denied, starting to look through some of the cupboards that lined the wall. "This is the woman who got her nickname from the number of women she sleeps with in a week, after all. Or used to, until you came along and ruined it all." He sent Foreman an accusing look and the African-American frowned.

"That's not how she got her nickname."

"It is according to the nurses and a couple of the patients," the older doctor responded. "Apparently, somebody's been spreading rumours around about our dear Huntingon." Foreman stared him down, knowing full well her that 'somebody' was, to which House responded with a 'who, me?' look. "Gary in radiology swears he saw her with Cameron last summer, in the supply closet," he added in a whisper.

Foreman frowned, now very much confused. "There's no Garry in radiology."

The conversation was interrupted, however, by a crash in the laundry where Chase was currently searching. The two doctors stared at the doorway for a moment, simultaneously wondering whether it was worth their time to investigate.

House glanced over at Foreman. "I'm putting you in charge of paying for the damages," he said, heading towards the laundry. "Time to go check on Chase. I don't trust pretty boy to air out Thirteen's dirty laundry if and when he finds it."

Foreman sighed and headed towards the drawer, intent on placing the journal back where it belonged. She may be his ex and she may have aborted his kid for whatever reason but he had no desire for her inner most thoughts to fall into the hands of House. Despite everything, he still cared about her.

He was however stopped in the process by House's voice, calling back. "And don't even think about putting that book back. I've been looking for a good read for ages now and what better than 'The Twisted Confessions of a Dying Lesbian'?"

Not wanting House to get his hands on the book and deeming it too risky to place back in the drawer, Foreman slipped it inside his coat pocket, deciding to give it back to Thirteen when they returned to the hospital.

Suddenly, Chase made his way out from the laundry room, a massive grin on his face. "I swear, Foreman, you are one lucky guy," he announced, holding up a set of bra and panties that would leave considerably little to the imagination when worn, very close to nothing actually. "Cameron never had launderette anywhere near as sexy as this when we were together."

House inspected the undergarments with a critical eye before a smirk formed on his face. "Chase, I do believe you've found gold." Apparently the blonde _could_ air out Thirteen's dirty laundry if and when he found any.

Foreman sighed in defeat; he should have known this was going to happen all along.

Suddenly, Wilson burst in through the door, looking out of breath and all over distressed. They all looked at the panting neurologist in confusion.

"Come to join the fun, Wilson?" House asked with a smirk.

Wilson shook his head, trying to catch his breath. "No, Cuddy – she heard that you were – and she sent me to make sure that you didn't . . ." he trailed off, finally taking the time to look at them properly. His eyes fell on the clothes in Chase's hands, still proudly on display, and his face dropped. "Though, I see I'm already too late."

"Oh, come on, Wilson, you know you were secretly hoping for this," House responded before turning back to Chase. "What else has she got?"

Foreman chose this time to step in. "We're supposed to be looking for toxins or anything else that could cause her to be sick. Not going through her underwear."

House gave the panties and bra a good look. "I don't know, those panties look considerably lethal."

"Not as much as this," a voice said, coming out of the bathroom. Taub stopped in front of them, a bottle of pills in his hand. "Ecstasy – I found it in her medicine cabinet. And there's cocaine in her makeup kit. The ecstasy was coated in dust so it probably hasn't been used in a while but the cocaine . . ."

Foreman's gaze dropped, defeat washing over him. He had hoped, no, _prayed_ that Thirteen hadn't reverted back to her old ways after House's notification of her night-club stamp that morning. It looked like he was wrong though.

House eyed the bottle of pills, expression showing neither whether he was gleeful or disappointed with the discovery. "Well, I do believe a little party girl has returned to us. Makes you proud."

. . .

_**12 years ago**_

_John Hadley sighed, looking around the dining room with eyes that always seemed to be searching for that one thing that he would never find again. It had been over a year since his wife had passed and still he expected to see her seated at the kitchen table beside him or going over patients' files in the office, or perhaps even seated at the piano, trying futilely to teach either Benny or Remy to play. Of course, he hadn't been witness to any of those things in years – they'd all happened long before her symptoms had started to seriously show. _

_His gaze found young Benny, now 16, and he smiled slightly at the sight of his son, painstakingly piling waffle upon waffle in order to build a little house. His lips were pursed in the expression familiar with any passionate designer and, to Mr. Hadley, he was the example of what everyone had been constantly repeating to him – 'It'll all be OK, things are going to get better'. _

_He wished he could believe that._

_John knew that serving waffles for dinner wasn't the best thing a parent could do but it was Anne's birthday . . . and she had always loved waffles._

_His daughter however was the utter opposite of her brother. Unlike him, she didn't bring about the bloom of hope that would suddenly arise in his chest when looked upon; she hadn't for a long time now. Remy was a complete replica of her mother, right down to the stubborn personality. When John looked at his daughter, he saw Anne. Sometimes that was nice, just to see her again, but most of the time it made him think things he really didn't want to even consider – just how much was Remy really like her mother?_

_Was her personality and looks a sign that she would indeed fall down the same path as Anne? He hoped not but sometimes, when he stared long enough, he could almost see the disease working its way about his daughter. Then they would lock stares, and it would raise its ugly head behind her eyes and mock him; always it seemed to say, 'You cannot keep her. This, too, I can take from you.' _

_John knew it was a foolish thing to think but he thought it nonetheless. When he watched Remy, he looked for the signs and symptoms he knew would not appear for years to come, if she had the disease at all. A part of him believed, no matter how foolish, that if he could catch and spot every sign, no matter how small, he could somehow stop the onslaught all together, he could save his daughter. _

_And that was perhaps the most foolish thought of all. _

_If Remy had contracted that disease then he could no more put a stop to it than a weatherman could to a raging tornado. If she had that disease, then it would come, and he would watch, and he would lose her. Just like he'd lost her mother. _

_Remy glared down at her plate as if it had somehow offended her throughout the course of her life. As always, her meal, which was this time waffles, was cut into perfect little squares. His daughter was nothing if not particular with everything she did. She was a perfectionist, always had been, and her school grades screamed this every time he received a report card in the mail. She was just like her mother._

"_Remy, honey, are you planning on eating those waffles anytime tonight? They'll be getting cold," he enquired while Benny looked up curiously from his plate. _

_Sometimes John worried about his son, not as much as he worried about Remy, of course, and that was part of the problem. It was no secret that he put a lot of time and energy into focusing on his daughter, which mostly included worrying about her, and because of that he'd come to realize that his son was often neglected. So far, Benny had shown no signs of this affecting him at all but Mr. Hadley doubted that was truly how he felt._

_He should do something with him this weekend, take him to a football match or whatever normal fathers and sons were supposed to do together. Anne's father could look after Remy._

"_Why are we having waffles for dinner?" she bit off, ignoring his question. _

_Ah, he should have known this was coming. "I thought it would be a nice way to celebrate your mother's birthday."_

_Remy still refused to look up from her plate. "She's dead – she doesn't need anyone to celebrate her birthday."_

_Benny glanced back down at his own plate and Mr. Hadley's heart clenched at her words. His daughter had always been one to speak her mind, and it was often something he'd admired, but right now he wished she'd been gifted with another personality trait. _

"_Do you want to talk about your mother?" he asked, glad that his voice didn't shake. The subject had been a taboo for so long that even Benny looked surprise by the question._

"_No," she responded petulantly and John sighed. Remy was thirteen and a half now, and had already entered into that angsty teenage faze. Most of the time she shut herself up in her room, pouring over her homework or sometimes listening to melancholy music on full volume that made Mr. Hadley grit his teeth and curse the dozens of artists responsible every time he passed her door. Last month she'd discovered the art of heavy metal and his eardrums had since started to melt. It was not a pleasant faze._

_She was also rude and angry a lot of the time. He could tell she was angry because she scowled, a lot. Quite frankly, John Hadley didn't know what to do._

_Finally, the young brunette glanced up and her chameleon eyes pierced through him. He wondered whether it was possible for such hatred to be contained in a thirteen year old and he wondered even more what it was directed at. Him? The world? The waffles, even?_

_He didn't know, he wasn't so sure he wanted to either._

_Suddenly something caught his attention and snapped him out of the present conversation. "Baby, where's your cross?"_

_Remy stiffened in her seat and she took a while to reply. _

_The Hadley family were firm Christians, or at least they had been before Anne's death. Right now they were very much drifting and God seemed to be the last thing on their minds. Unless you included Benny, who seemed to have become an altar boy over night. _

_The cross he was referring to was the one Anne had given Remy seven years ago, back before the disease had taken hold. It was the one she herself had been given by her mother and was very important to the both of them. As far as John knew, Remy had never taken it off before now._

"_I lost it."_

_Benny glanced sharply in her direction and John's face softened. No wonder she had been in such a bad mood. That cross meant the world to Remy. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I know how much that necklace meant to you. Are you alright?"_

"_I'm fine," she replied tersely. "May I please be excused?"_

_He stared at her, taken aback, but after a moment nodded his consent. If she was intent on leaving without dinner, nothing he could say would change her mind. "Alright."_

_She was out of her seat in an instant, the chair legs grating against the hardwood floor, shortly followed by her bare feet making the sound of disappearing steps down the hallway. All was quiet in the kitchen for a moment and neither father nor son returned to their meal, appetites temporarily ruined._

"_The year 9s had biology today," Benny commented out of the blue, taking a knife and fork and cutting into one of his waffles. _

_Mr. Hadley nodded but didn't say anything. While he was very proud of his daughter's progress in school – she'd even skipped a grade – he didn't see what it had to do with now._

"_This month's topic is Genome. They learnt about genetic disorders today," he continued, stopping in his actions and glancing over at him. Mr. Hadley sighed and closed his eyes; _of course_. "She shouted at the teacher," Benny added. "You'll probably be getting a call from school sometime this week." _

_John nodded but kept his eyes shut. He didn't ask how his son knew about what happened in year 9 classes, specifically his sister's. Benny had always been protective of his little sister and keenly alert to anything and everything that went on in her life. Mr. Hadley wouldn't be surprised if the 16 year old had somehow sensed his sister's distress and shown up at the classroom in just the nick of time._

_Sighing he could almost hear his wife's voice in his head, whispering what he had already realized long ago – 'This can't go on'. _

_But he did not know how to stop it._

**A/N: There are going to be more flashbacks after this one so I hope it was OK. Thanks for the reviews, once again I love them. I also realize that Thirteen and Foreman are going to have to have a confrontation and they will, just not yet. **


	9. To Avoid or Not to Avoid?

_**A/N: Thankyou so much for pointing that out 2Monk4 (slaps forehead), can't believe I got Wilson's and Foreman's jobs mixed up. Also, I am sorry for the slow update and I chalk it up to a week full of assignments, tests and bucketfuls of homework which, by the way, I am drowning in at the moment. I am also sorry to tell you that I might not be updating much, or at all, for the next few weeks because I have exams coming up.**_

_**And did I mention I love everyone's reviews? Because I do, so thankyou, thankyou, thankyou.**_

_"There is a great deal of pain in life_

_and perhaps the only pain that can_

_be avoided is the pain that comes_

_from trying to avoid pain."_

_ - R. D. Laing_

Chase paced the hallway outside Thirteen's room, his mind debating back and forth whether to go in. He wanted to know she was alright but at the same time he didn't want to _want_ to know whether she was alright. Because it wasn't just the kind of she's-your-friend concern he was feeling at the moment it was the someone-you-love-is-in-trouble kind, and, as much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, he couldn't deal with that.

Going into the room would be crossing a line for him, maybe even for both of them, and although it could hardly be seen it was there, he knew it was. And he couldn't do that.

This had to stop, whatever was going on between them, it had to stop now. Because he was still suffering from Allison's departure and . . . she was dying.

She was dying. And he didn't want to get any closer to that.

Sighing, the blonde shook his head and turned away, intent on returning to the differential room. He stopped short however when he caught sight of Foreman approaching. The man seemed to be having a very similar debate to the one Chase had been having beforehand and looked about ready to bolt at the slightest signal that this was all just a disaster waiting to happen.

The Aussie took in a breath and exhaled, remembering his promise to himself earlier that day to see how his friend was doing. Whatever was going on in his own life at the moment, Foreman's problems were slightly worse. Time to put his own feelings aside and be the friend he was supposed to be. Not the friend that was screwing his friend's ex-girlfriend on the side and not telling him about it.

"You haven't talked to her yet, have you?" Chase guessed and Foreman glanced over, noticing him. Taking in his words, the man's shoulders slumped and he sighed. That was answer enough.

"I've thought about it," he responded. "Haven't got much past thinking."

"You're still angry." It was an assumption but Chase figured it would be the right one.

There was a pause and the other doctor glanced towards Thirteen's room before looking back at the blonde. "I know I should talk to her first, should try and find out why she did it before, well, before condemning her . . . but I can't help what I feel. And if I go in there now, then I'm going to get even angrier and I'm going to yell at her. And that's not going to accomplish anything." He frowned, contemplating that. "I just need a little time."

Chase nodded. "Understandable." He didn't however point out that maybe the former couple needed to have a good yelling at each other, just to get things out in the open. Surely, sitting back and letting things stew wasn't going to accomplish anymore than actually confronting the problem head on would?

But, then again, he'd just gotten out of a failed marriage that had arisen from a rather dysfunctional relationship so what did he know? It was better to just go with Foreman on this one, at least that way Chase couldn't be blame if thing went horribly south, or at least more so than they already had.

There was a prominent snort of disbelief in the distance and they both looked to see House limping towards them. Apparently, Thirteen's room had become the new meeting point. Chase wouldn't have been surprised if his boss had taken it upon himself to send out a flyer's saying, 'free beer and sandwiches at room 213, bring your friends,' just in an effort to annoy Thirteen. It was maybe a little unlikely but the blonde still found himself looking around anyway for the telltale signs of a hospital-staff-stampede coming their way, just in case.

Foreman sighed and seemed to be willing himself not to reach out and trip the older man up. If his friend so asked, Chase vowed he would do it for him. "I suppose you have something you'd like to add, House?"

"Am I really becoming that predictable?" House asked, face a mask of false horror. Chase's leg twitched, begging to be extended and used as an obstacle for the doctor to topple over. The horrified looked disappeared to be replaced with seriousness. "You're both idiots." He turned to Foreman. "You're not staying away from her because you're afraid of yelling at her, you're staying away because you're angry and you know that when you finally get up the guts to talk to her she'll present some reasonable explanation and you won't be angry anymore." He made no mention as to why he considered the blonde an idiot though the talk the two had had earlier probably had something to do with his reasoning for the statement.

Both Foreman and Chase shared a look, the Aussie speaking up, "And Foreman wants to be angry because . . .?" Really, he was beginning to think House had lost his marbles.

House rolled his eyes as if he was talking to a couple of imbeciles. "Because it's easier to be angry than be in pain." Not giving them time to mull that over, he started walking again, pushing past them. "Now, if you two ladies will excuse me, I'm going to go check on our patient since neither of you seem to be brave enough to do so yourselves. Cowards."

Foreman and Chase stood in uncomfortable silence for a moment as House left them to their own devices. There was something deeply wrong and unsettling about a man like that having so much knowledge and intuition about the lives of others around him, especially when it had become known years before that he wasn't going to use his power for good.

"I'm going to . . ." Chase made a vague gesture in the opposite direction to Foreman, not quite sure what he was going to do. Maybe see Cuddy about getting a restraining order put on House for the sake of Thirteen's sanity or perhaps he would go check with everyone to make sure that the older doctor really _hadn't_ sent that that invitation out about her room.

"Yeah. I have to . . ." Foreman pointed somewhere down the hall, possibly indicating the old janitor, Garry, who was currently grinning at them in a rather sadistic manner. Probably not, though.

They parted ways almost instantly.

. . .

Foreman looked back as Chase disappeared down the hallway, fingering the slight bulge in his coat pocket. House was right, he hated to admit it, but he was. Being angry with Thirteen was far easier than having to allow himself the time of really considering what had happened. If he did that then he would start to think about what he had really lost and then the pain would kick in.

Eric was an expert in avoiding pain, being 'boring', as House had so fondly called him many times, was a key instrument in that. When you were boring you didn't take risks and it was when you took those risks that you really laid yourself out on the line, right in the way of the chopping axe. Sure, some people somehow managed to get their hides off of the chopping block but just as many didn't. He could remember the few times he had taken a risk, none of them had ended well.

Being with Thirteen was a major risk, not only because it meant opening up to someone in such an intimate way but also because she was dying. Foreman still wasn't sure yet, after the way things had turned out, whether it was a risk he'd found worth taking.

On the one hand, his time with Thirteen had been great and he really had loved her. On the other . . . well, all you had to do was look at the situation they were in now and draw up the conclusion that maybe it might have been a bad idea.

He sighed and reached into his coat pocket. Whether or not it had been a bad idea didn't matter, he still had to deal with the consequences and that meant accepting whatever pain was to come.

. . .

"We found coke and ecstasy in your apartment," a voice announced, coming into the room and taking up a stand beside Thirteen's bed. She glanced over at House absentmindedly, eyes clouded from her earlier thoughts. At that moment, her hand traced across her stomach – just like it had been doing most of that day – and she tore it away, angry with herself. Even though there was no longer a baby in there, her body still remembered the countless nights when she had splayed a hand across there, reaching for something she could not have.

Remy knew she shouldn't have let herself get so close but it was hard not to when, deep down, it was what she really wanted. Now she was paying the price.

"You broke into my apartment?" she asked in outrage, her boss's words finally catching up with her.

"Well, yeah," House responded, as if it was the obvious thing to do. "How else am I going to find out your dirty little secrets?"

She sighed and shook her head. The brunette realized that she could fight him on this, perhaps tell him off a bit more, but knew deep down that she had not a hope of really accomplishing anything. House was, well, _House_ and he always would be. "You said you found ecstasy and cocaine?" she asked, instantly on the defensive. She was so sure she'd hid them well enough.

"This as well," he informed her, pulling a pair of panties out from inside his coat. They dangled daringly in front of her incredulous face. Horrified, she snatched them hastily out of his hand and glared accusingly at him.

"I can't believe you!"

House looked at her innocently. "It really shouldn't be that hard."

The brunette closed her eyes and exhaled. _I mustn't kill my boss. I mustn't kill my boss. I mustn't kill my boss. _"What do you want?"

His face transformed into a mask of seriousness, or what might pass for seriousness in conjunction with House. "You're falling back into bad habits."

She shook her head, exasperated. "It was one night. I needed a distraction."

"Yet you brought enough supplies home to last you more than one night. That says one of two things. The first being: you're an idiot. And the second being: you're also an idiot but one who plans on making one night into one week and then one week into one month and so on."

She couldn't deny him there. Sure, Thirteen had only planned on one night but even now she could feel an itch for that coke, just a chance to get away from reality; a reality which, quite frankly, sucked right now. Nonetheless, she pursed her lips and lied through her teeth. "I'm fine."

"Please," House scoffed. "You're no more fine than you are straight. And I'm not just referring to the fact that you're currently in a hospital bed."

"Is there a particular point to this conversation?"

He seemed to think about it for a moment before replying, "Nope. I'm just here to say, 'thank goodness, you've gone back to your old ways – you were starting to get boring.'"

Remy gazed at him in disbelief. "You're an ass."

"But a sexy one, right?"

"Get out."

"I also found SSRI under the sink. Didn't know you suffered from anxiety. Interesting."

_I will not kill my boss. I will not kill my boss. I will not kill my boss. _"What part of 'get out' didn't you understand?" she asked, to which he only shrugged his shoulders.

"The part where I get out." He stated, clearly having no intent on leaving and finally, she sighed, giving in. If answering his questions was the only way she was going to get him out then so be it. She could always take a leaf out of Cuddy's book and swap his Vicoden for laxatives later.

"Yes, I suffer from anxiety. A lot of people do. _Now_ can you get out?"

"It pains me that you dislike my company so. Perhaps you could consider stripping to make me feel better?" he responded hopefully.

She really shouldn't have been surprised. This was House, after all. Silly of her to think that, whilst she was currently ill and everything but strapped down to a hospital bed, that he would show some sense of decency. Silly, silly her. "House!"

"I promise I won't tell Foreman. It'll just be between us," he bargained with a wink.

Whilst Thirteen was caught up staring at him with an incredulous face there was a knock on the door and an inquisitive Foreman appeared. "Tell Foreman what?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" House responded without pause, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Remy resisted the urge to bury her head in her hands and instead focused all her attention on glaring a hole through House's head. Despite her best efforts, though, he didn't seem to notice.

"I'll leave you two lovebird to yourselves," House decided before leaning in and whispering in Thirteen's ear, "Try to let him down easy. I still need him to be reasonably functional after your little chat." She retracted in disgust at having him so close to her and the doctor smirked before rising to his feet. "Be gentle on her," House added, patting Foreman on the shoulder as he walked past. "Remember, she's dying."

Foreman shook his head in exasperation and closed the door behind House. He sighed, turning to face Remy who became immediately apprehensive. This was a discussion she had wanted to avoid. She knew now that House had spilled the beans about what had happened and she didn't know what to expect from her ex. She also didn't want to talk about what had happened, at all.

Regardless, Eric seemed to be thinking along different lines. "I think we need to talk." She didn't respond and he took that as an invitation to pull up a chair at her bedside and sit down. Thirteen closed her eyes, preparing herself for the coming task. "I also wanted to return this," he added, retrieving a black journal from inside his coat and placing it down on the bed. "I rescued it from House."

The brunette fingered the journal for a moment, contemplating. She was grateful he had returned it but confused at the strange generosity after what had happened. "He's never going to stop, is he?" she asked absentmindedly, referring to House's endless vendetta to figure out every little aspect of her life.

Foreman shook his head.

They remained in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Remy tried to think of something to say, anything that would make what she had done any better, but there was nothing. She had done wrong by him, she knew that, but she didn't regret it. "I'm sorry, Eric."

He nodded his head and looked down. "I know you are. Trust me, I do. And I know why you did it." At her confused expression, a slightly guilty one came upon his own face. "I have a confession to make. I opened it," he told her, nodding towards the journal.

Thirteen should have been angry at the invasion of privacy, she really should have, but it was such a small thing piled up on top of everything else that she could hardly bring herself to care. "You wanted to know why I did it," she guessed. "I understand. And I don't blame you. As long as the recent entries were the only ones you read."

"Oh, believe me, they were. I hardly even read more than a page. Didn't really feel right," he responded, a small, relieved smile forming on his face. "There's still one thing I don't understand, though."

Thirteen shook her head, confused. "What?" All of her reasons, as far as she knew, had been written down in that journal. And when she said 'all' of them she meant 'all' – the young brunette had needed an outlet for her raging thoughts.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Eric asked, eyes wide and at a loss.

Remy's face softened and she bit her lip, cocking her head to the side. "Because I didn't want to hurt you. Because I loved you." She wasn't afraid to admit that last part. While she may not love him anymore there had certainly been a time when she had and when he had loved her in return. Foreman nodded his head, taking that in. "Because I knew you would have been able to talk me out of it." And that was the real reason. It wasn't just because she didn't want to hurt him, it never had been, it was because she knew deep down, if anyone else had the ability to want this baby as much as she did it would be Foreman. And Remy didn't have the strength to shatter both their hearts, it was hard enough to put a knife through hers.

There was another stretch of silence, during which Thirteen looked over to see House standing outside her room, giving them the thumbs up. She frowned and Foreman followed her gaze, raising his eyebrows at what he saw.

"I still can't believe you told him." He didn't sound angry about the fact, just confused.

"I didn't. I would never tell House," she denied, inwardly horrified by the idea. The day she would willingly tell House something of that magnitude would be the day that she would admit herself to an insane asylum. "He went through my handbag."

"Ah," he responded, light dawning in his eyes, still continuing to look at House as the older doctor began making crude hand gestures through the glass. "That does sound like House." He frowned, a thought suddenly occurring to him, and he turned back to face Thirteen. "How are you feeling by the way?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "A little cold. Other than that, I'm fine," Remy told him with a small smile. "I think House is overreacting. It's obviously Endometritis, like Taub said." To be honest, she wished her boss wasn't making such a big fuss out of this. So she'd fainted and so she had a fever. She could narrow all those down to simple problems like dehydration and the flu. The rest of her problems, like mentioned before, were being caused by Endometritis. Yet, House, the top diagnostician perhaps in the country, thought otherwise.

That was actually pretty unnerving. And if she wasn't so tired she would think on it a little more. As it was, she just wanted to get some sleep. Even if it was only 5:00 in the afternoon. As if on cue, Remy let out a yawn. Her hand reached up to hide it but failed miserably.

Foreman smirked in amusement. "And I think that's my cue to leave. You get some rest," he ordered gently, rising from the chair. "And don't go convincing any more nurses to set you free."

Thirteen resisted the urge to roll her eyes; _overprotective much?_ "Yes, mother."

Her ex just smiled and turned towards the door. He was almost out of the room when Remy, chewing anxiously on her bottom lip, called out to him. "Hey, Eric." He turned back and she immediately regretted her words. She didn't want to do this, didn't even want to think about it, but he deserved to know. After everything, he deserved that much. "It was a boy."

He frowned, confused for a moment, before comprehension dawned in his eyes. "A boy?"

"Yeah." The brunette nodded her head slowly, offering a weak smile. "I just . . . thought you should know."

After a pause he nodded his head, sent her his own small, obviously forced, smile back, and headed out the door. Things weren't right between them, she knew that, after everything she doubted things ever could be, but they weren't awful either. And that she could live with that.

"I don't even need soaps when I have you," House announced, poking his head back inside.

She groaned and rolled over, closing her eyes. Maybe if she dreamed about it really hard, he would disappear.

"Sweet dreams, Mama Bear," he let out in a singsong tone of voice before, like Foreman, disappearing.

_**A/N: I'm not that great at writing Foreman, he just doesn't come easily to me, so I hope this chapter didn't suck too much. **_


	10. When House is Right

_**A/N: I had a momentary reprieve in my homework and since I had already started writing this chapter a while ago I decided to finish it. Hope you like. **_

_**And, as always, thanks for the reviews; love 'em.**_

_**. . . **_

"_Truth makes many appeals, not the least of which is its power to shock."_

_Jules Renard quotes (French Writer, 1864-1910)_

"Thirteen's kidneys are failing," House announced, stepping into the differential room. Ah, another day, another soap.

Foreman frowned in confusion and opened up his patient file. After rereading what it said a couple of times he finally replied. "No they're not."

"No. They're not," House agreed. Chase and Taub both sat back in their seats, relieved. "I just thought it would be funny to see how everyone would react. Plus, Chase looked half asleep."

The blonde doctor frowned. "I had a late night."

"Did you go out clubbing? Have sex with strange women?" House enquired mockingly.

Chase frowned. "No."

"Good. Your boobs aren't nearly perky enough to qualify you for taking over as Thirteen. Honest, it would just be weird."

The Australian didn't look impressed but didn't say anything either. Whether that was because he knew House's words to be true or was just thoroughly disappointed in the fact that he couldn't be the new Thirteen was open for debate.

"The antibiotics we prescribed are working. The bleeding has reduced and there's no longer any discharge," Taub commented, reading from his own file. It was clear he wasn't interested in the conversation they were currently having.

"She doesn't have Endometritis," House stated loudly, rubbing the bridge of his nose and wondering how many more times he would have to point this out before he got it through their thick heads.

Taub frowned. "The treatment's working."

"And yet she's still sick. Seems a little odd, don't you think?" he retorted.

Foreman made an unimpressed face. "She hasn't even been on it for two days. It's going to be a while yet before she fully recovers."

"Endometritis doesn't cause fainting," House pointed out reasonably.

Now it was Chase's turn to get in on the fun. "Which can be easily explained by dehydration. She had a lot on her mind – I doubt she was thinking very much about her daily fluid intake. Other than that, all her other symptoms can be easily explained by Endometritis." Satisfied, he placed his own file back on the table and leant back in his seat. "Which means, we need a new case."

House stared at him for a moment. "You're an idiot." Something caught his eye outside the room and, without turning, he called out, "Cuddy! Wilson!"

The Dean and his friend shared matching grimaces and halted in their walking strides. For a moment it looked like they were still going to make a run for it before, upon letting out sighs of resignation, they made their way inside the office.

"House, this better be good," Cuddy warned. "Lucas just called up and Rachel's sick. I'm supposed to be on my way home."

"And I have to deliver some unfortunate news to a patient," Wilson added solemnly.

House resisted the urge to roll his eyes; everyone thought their problems were so huge. "Are they dying?"

"Uh, yes, actually," his friend stumbled.

The diagnostician paused. "Well, they can still wait. We need a fifth and sixth opinion," he stated, snatching Taub and Chase's files and handing it to them. "And it's not Endometritis."

Cuddy frowned at her file. "Who's Jane Doe?"

"I couldn't figure out a last name for Thirteen. Thirty, perhaps?" House shrugged his shoulders. "I thought Jane Doe sounded way cooler. Then again, Thirteen Thirty has a ring to it . . ."

Cuddy stared at him incredulously. "You're treating Dr. Hadley? Since when are you treating Dr. Hadley?"

House pretended to look confused. "Dr. Who?"

Cuddy sighed and would have crossed her arms if not for the file she had in hand. "House."

"Yes?" he asked innocently, causing Cuddy to scowl.

"House, it's Endometritis," Wilson, who had been focused on his own file, not paying attention to the others in the room, said looking up.

The doctor shook his head in frustration, wondering how everybody could be such idiots. "It's not Endometritis."

"The treatment for Endometritis is working, what other proof do you need?" his boss asked. "Do you _want_ her to be sicker than she already is?"

"What? Of course not. That would just be mean," he responded easily, taking out a piece of paper and pen from his pocket. "Now, I need you to sign this."

Cuddy frowned, taking it and looking it over. "This says that I agree to have Thirteen strapped down to her bed." Chase and Foreman's eyebrows rose and Taub shook his head in exasperation.

"Well, sure, how else am I supposed to get her to stay in bed?" he retorted. "That girl's fast for a sick person."

Cuddy didn't look impressed. "It also says that I agree to do a porn tape with her next week and stream it on the web."

"I think the wordings a little more delicate than that but, yes, that would be the drift."

She sighed and pressed the file and piece of paper back into his hands. "Send her home, House. Let her get some rest and she'll be back here ready for you to start annoying her again before you know it." With that, the brunette turned and walked out the door, Wilson hot on her heels.

"So, no porn tape then?" House called. He received no answer.

. . .

**_12 years (or so) Ago_**

"_Mr. Hadley, thankyou, for coming in today," the principle greeted, rising from his seat behind his desk to shake John's hand. Benny had been right in saying that the school would call him after the biology incident and the next day he found himself scheduling an appointment to take place in a week's time with the principle. _

"_Not a problem," Mr. Hadley replied, letting go of the other man's hand and taking a seat at a vacant chair. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't nervous about the coming task. Somehow, being in the principal's office made him feel like he was somehow being judged for his parenting, like all his misgivings about whether or not he was a good parent were being confirmed. _

"_First of all, I want to apologise for my error of judgement," Principle Flanders (not to be confused with Ned Flanders from Simpsons, though he students often did just that) started off. _

"_Excuse me?" Mr. Hadley questioned, confused._

"_Teaching that topic to Remy was inconsiderate of the school. It seems like a feeble excuse but her mother's illness, I'm afraid, did slip both my mind and the biology teacher's."_

"_Oh." He wondered how anyone could be lucky enough to have it slip their mind; it certainly hadn't slipped his. Should he ask how Flanders had managed it, perhaps get some tips? He sorely needed them._

"_Now, I know that Remy is in a delicate situation at the moment but I'm sure you understand that we can't just let this slide. Shouting at a teacher is a serious offense and normally I would give the student a Saturday's detention. However, I think we've surpassed that."_

"_Surpassed?" _

_The principle looked uncomfortable for a moment. "I want Remy to start seeing the school councillor."_

_John thought about that and inwardly groaned at how hard it was going to be to convince his daughter to do such a thing. "Surely, one incident doesn't warrant such an action."_

"_I'm afraid it isn't just one incident," Flanders sighed, folding his hands on top of the desk and leaning forward. "Did you know that Remy has renounced God?"_

_Both his children attended a Christian school and he was not surprised that something like this would have caught the principle's attention. He _**was**_ surprised, however, by the simple fact. The idea of his daughter denying God had never entered his mind. "No. How do you know this?"_

"_As you know we have morning prayers on Mondays down at the church. "For the past few months, Remy has simply been refusing to pray. She won't even enter the church. I'm sure you realize how serious this is."_

_No more serious than everything else but someone as heavily Christian was unlikely to see it that way. John himself was struggling to keep his faith after Anne's death and couldn't blame his daughter for being in the same boat. Regardless, he nodded his head as he knew was expected of him._

"_Now, it is not uncommon for people, after suffering a traumatic event, like the loss of a loved one, to question God. But we need to make sure that it doesn't advance beyond that. Remy is a brilliant girl, it would be a tragedy if she were to turn away from God and tarnish her soul."_

"_Yes, of course." Though, he didn't know whether he really believed the words. He had bigger things to worry about than what God thought of his daughter._

_Flanders nodded, apparently satisfied. "Talk to your daughter, Mr. Hadley. And I'll see about scheduling an appointment with the councillor."_

…

_(PRESENT) One Week Later_

Chase sighed as he moved his little silver shoe forward on the Monopoly board. He really didn't see the point of having to come into work if all they were going to do was play games. The last three were backgammon, hangmen and poker (they'd given up on poker shortly after it appeared House was going to send them all home broke).

It wasn't that he wanted someone to be sick; he just . . . wanted someone to be sick. As he should, as well; he had a job, he was allowed to want to actually do that job. Besides, he sucked at monopoly.

"Seriously, wombat, did they not have Monopoly down under?" House asked, looking at Chase's meagre pile of fake money with something crossed between disgust and childish glee. "You suck."

"Of course they had Monopoly back home," Chase protested before finishing feebly, "We just . . . never had it in _our_ home."

"That's very interesting," his boss replied in a tone that clearly suggested the opposite. "Has anyone checked up on Thirteen lately?"

No-one was surprised by the question. House brought up the topic of Thirteen at least once a day, still thoroughly convinced that he was right in his opinion that it wasn't Endometritis. As of yet, no-one was sharing his point of view but that didn't seem to put a dent in his determination.

"I brought her over some soup on the weekend," Foreman responded casually, frowning down at the Monopoly board in an effort to plan his next move. "Looks like she might have the flu or a cold." Chase resisted the urge to bristle at the mention of Remy and her ex (who was also his friend, can't forget that) spending time alone together. Great, now he had moved onto the jealousy part of his and Thirteen's non-relationship. He was stupid for believing that, if he pretended that nothing had ever happened, the entire problem would just go away.

House gazed at Foreman with mock incredulity. "You brought soup over to your ex? That's just weird."

The other man scowled but didn't deny the fact, probably well aware of just how 'weird' the situation was. House brushed it aside.

"It's Wednesday. Chase, go check on her."

Now the Australian was confused. "Why me?" OK, maybe he wasn't so confused. He knew why House wanted him to go check on Thirteen, he just wished he didn't. It was going to be extremely hard to avoid someone when you were in the same room as them.

The older doctor rolled his eyes. "Because if I send Foreman they'll probably just get into a fight. And, well, Taub doesn't care." Taub, himself, looked like he was going to protest that statement but seemed to eventually decide that it wasn't worth the effort.

"We're not going to fight," Foreman denied. "We're on good terms."

"You're on good terms because you're both feel sickeningly guilty," House corrected. "She feels guilty because she aborted your kid and didn't tell you about it. You feel guilty because you feel like you should have been there for her and you weren't. You're also still angry with her but you won't admit it. Add in the unresolved issues of your breakup and sooner or later you're going to get in an argument," he explained. "That's fine. I just want to be there to witness it."

"And I'm off," Chase decided, not wanting this to go any further.

"If she's making out with a hot girl be sure to bring me back a picture," House called after him as he exited out the door.

. . .

Chase knocked on the door to Thirteen's apartment. After waiting and receiving no reply, he reached into his pocket and brought out the keys that he still had from last time he'd broken in with the rest of the team. He couldn't deny he felt a little bad for doing a repeat performance, as he inserted the key in the lock and turned, but, with House as his boss, he really didn't have any other option.

The door opened soundlessly and he stepped in with a sigh, looking around. Thirteen's apartment was neat; it had been the initial thing he'd noticed upon the first time he'd been there. The blonde wondered how someone could have the time to keep their apartment so neat when they worked for House, especially when they were sick as well. Chase's own apartment looked like it had been ransacked, not that he didn't like it that way; it added a sense of character to the place.

As soon as Cameron had gone, the first thing he'd done was mess up his apartment. Call it a coping method but it was something he had wanted to do for a while.

Thinking of Allison made his heart clench and he quickly tried to distract himself.

There were pictures on a shelf near the door, most seeming to be taken from years ago. There was a middle aged man in a lot of them, along with a young boy who grew steadily older as Chase went from frame to frame. Only a couple had a young brunette girl in them, as if Thirteen had somehow tried to cut herself out from that part of her life.

None of them showed her mother.

His gaze flickered over a few photos of her and the team at gatherings like hospital Christmas parties and charity balls. There was even one of her, Foreman, him and Taub at his bachelor party (they looked very drunk). Chase's eyes landed on a picture of her and Kutner. It was taken at the park which must have meant they used to get together out of hospital hours before his death. Chase had never known they were so close.

The blonde's eyes caught sight of a crack going up the side of the photo frame, as if somebody had thrown it against a wall in a fit of anger but had hastily patched it up with some glue later.

He didn't know who had taken the photo (Foreman, perhaps?) but Thirteen was scowling at Kutner while he smiled bashfully back. Chase wondered what the young man had done to warrant such a reaction and found himself smiling along in amusement.

He hadn't known the man that well but he still kind of missed him. It was ironic that, to Chase, Kutner had always seemed the most happy and cheerful fellow. And yet he had committed suicide. That was just proof that you could never really know a person and what went on inside their head.

Sighing, he moved on into the living room, stopping short at the sight before him.

"Shit!" he cursed, racing forward and kneeling beside Thirteen's limp form. She was face down on the floor and there was shattered glass spread out around her. Gently, trying not to let his panic show through, he turned her over, hoping to get a better look at how she was.

Blood streamed slowly from her nose and ran in endless rivulets down her chin and onto her neck, colouring her newly pale skin red. Her eyes were shut so she was obviously unconscious and Chase's eyes narrowed in concern. "Thirteen!" he called, trying to get her to come around.

The thing that really caught his concern was the blood emanating from her abdomen, though. Lifting up her shirt slightly, he could see traces of glass jutting out of her skin and realized with sudden clarity that she must have fainted and fallen on the broken class. "Come on, Thirteen, wake up," he urged, taking off his jacket and pressing it to the wound. The cuts, from what he could tell, weren't that deep but she was still losing more blood than he would have liked.

Reaching for his cell phone, the blonde dialled 911 (he had to stop himself from entering in 000 after years of having the Australian emergency number drilled into his head during primary school) and raised it to his ear.

"This is 911, what is your emergency?"

"This is Dr. Chase. I need an ambulance for . . ." He muttered off the required details on autopilot whilst checking her over for any other complications. A touch to her forehead proved she had an extremely high fever that would need attention as soon as they got to the hospital and Chase gnawed at his bottom lip, worried.

It was just after he'd hung up that Thirteen began to rouse. Her eyes blinked groggily at him, trying to take everything into focus and failing miserably.

The blonde was instantly on the alert. "Thirteen, can you hear me?" Realizing that if it was him who was just awaking from a bout of unconsciousness, he certainly wouldn't respond to some stupid nickname, Chase tried again. "Remy?"

She blinked again, confused. "Chase?"

"Yeah," he breathed, relieved. "Yeah, it's me. How do you feel?"

Thirteen squinted, trying to make sense out of her surroundings. "Cold. I feel cold," she responded shakily, obviously still dazed.

Chase nodded and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, being sure to keep the other firmly over her stomach, still applying pressure. "You have a high fever, which means you're probably experiencing chills. The ambulance is on its way so don't worry. Can you remember what happened?"

Thirteen blinked and her head lolled to the side slightly, groggily. She was no longer looking at him but at the opposite wall, like it held some interest, though, he had a feeling she wasn't really seeing it either. The blonde pleaded internally for her to look at him again – It was so much more reassuring than the blank stare she had on at the moment. "I was getting a drink and . . . I don't know."

Chase nodded his head, expecting as much. "I think you must have fainted."

She nodded slightly and winced. "My stomach hurts."

"Yeah, you fell on some broken glass. Don't worry, it's not so bad."

"Mm." She murmured, eyes closing once more. There was a moment's silence in which the blonde was afraid she'd passed out again but to his relief she spoke up after a pause, voice slightly cracked. "I hate it when House is right."

Yeah, Chase kind of hated it to.


	11. Life Sucks and Then What?

_**A/N: So sorry for the long update. While my exams did finish at the end of last week, I've still had orals and assignments to get through and, to be honest, I didn't feel much like doing anything after the exams, let alone writing this. I hope you're not too mad at me and I promise the next update will be quicker.**_

_**I saw the episode Lockdown of House this week and couldn't stop laughing. The Foreman & Taub and Wilson & Thirteen scenes were just too funny. **_

_**Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and again if anyone has anything in particular they want me to put into this story don't hesitate to ask and I'll see what I can do (though, of course, it will depend on where I'm planning to take the story myself).**_

_**. . .**_

"_Most people think life sucks, and then you die. Not me. I beg to differ. I think life sucks, then you get cancer, then your dog dies, your wife leaves you, the cancer goes into remission, you get a new dog, you get remarried, you owe ten million dollars in medical bills but you work hard for thirty-five years and you pay it back and then - one day - you have a massive stroke, your whole right side is paralyzed, you have to limp along the streets and speak out of the left side of your mouth and drool but you go into rehabilitation and regain the power to walk and the power to talk and then - one day - you step off a curb at Sixty-seventh Street, and BANG you get hit by a city bus and then you die. Maybe."_

_- Denis Leary quotes (American Actor, b.1957)_

Chase glared studiously at the table top. It wasn't that this particular furniture had done anything to piss him off within the last 24 hours but rather he thought it would be more considerate to glower at an inanimate object than an innocent bystander. Foreman and Taub both seemed to share his idea and House sat lazily in his chair, throwing his pet ball up and down in childish absentmindedness. If the blonde wasn't so busy being angry at the table he might have taken the time to scowl at his boss and possibly snatch the infuriating ball away.

"We should never have let her go home," Chase muttered. He kept replaying the events in his head, mind racing with the dozens of possibilities and worst case scenarios. It had been a bloody lucky thing that House had chosen that moment to send someone to go check up on Thirteen. The blonde shuddered to think about what could have happened if no-one had found her. It was possible she would have woken up on her own and managed to crawl over to the telephone and call 911 herself. It was also possible that she wouldn't have.

"I'm trying to decide whether it would be cruel of me to say, 'I told you so'," their boss announced casually. He didn't seem overall that concerned about Thirteen. Then again, when it came to House, appearances could be deceiving.

Suddenly, Cuddy chose that moment to come bustling in, looking rather flustered as well. "Cynthia in the E.R. just told me what happened. How is she?"

"I told you so," House added on to his earlier statement. They all turned to stare at him. "I did."

"She's stable," Chase said, taking pity on Cuddy. "Some of the cuts on her stomach needed stitches but she didn't lose too much blood. It was her head the paramedics were worried about – she hit it pretty hard when she went down. We're going to wait until she wakes up again to take her in for an MRI."

The Dean nodded briskly, taking that in. "Any idea what's wrong with her?"

"Well, one thing's for certain," House butted in before anyone could respond. "It's certainly not Endometritis."

"Yes, we messed up. Yes, we've payed the price. Can we get back to figuring out what's wrong with her now?" Taub asked in a pleasant enough tone.

Cuddy pursed her lips while House scowled at him.

"I'm going to go get back to work," was the Dean's parting as she left. Chase didn't blame her for the quite exit – it was hard enough dealing with House and his fellows on a regular day but dealing with them while they were like this? Well, he was just glad he wasn't her.

House ignored Cuddy's exit and dialled a number into his phone, putting it on speaker.

"Hello?"

"What looks like Endometritis, treats like Endometritis, feels like Endometritis but isn't?" he asked casually, leaning back in his seat.

"Who's that?" Chase asked, gazing at the phone in confusion, only to be ignored. The voice sounded slightly familiar but he couldn't place it.

"Is this another it's-not-a-cancer thing?" Taub enquired bluntly, thinking back to last year when they'd treated that woman who – after taking into consideration the fact that everyone else who had been given the same donor by then was dead – they knew was dying but weren't quite sure of what yet.

"Don't be ridiculous. If it was another it's-not-a-cancer thing I would have said it wasn't cancer." He turned back to the phone. "Cameron, go."

"Cameron?" the team repeated in shock and Chase's heart sank. It couldn't really be her on the other end; after all that had happened recently, the world really couldn't be so cruel as to throw his ex-wife in his face as well. Then, again . . . .

The Aussie imagined a couple of angels in turbans sitting up on the clouds, each pondering out loud just what they could do next in the effort to send one Robert Chase to the psychiatric ward. He silently prayed they did bring his father back from the dead because that would really do it.

Letting out a sigh, the blonde comforted himself with the notion that such an occurrence was far too _Lost_ or _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ to ever take place in his life. Still, you never knew.

"Where did you get this number, House?" Cameron demanded, not sounding all that happy; not that anyone ever sounded happy to be talking to House.

"Cuddy's office, where else? I've faxed through the patient's files," he replied easily, not in the least bit bothered. Of course he wasn't bothered because messing with the lives of his current and former employees and possibly sending them to the Looney bin was the closest thing to a daily routine that House had ever had.

Chase tried not to glare too obviously at him.

"I know, I got them," she ground out. "Who is Jane Doe?"

"Why is that always the first question out of everyone's mouths?" House wondered to himself.

"That wasn't my first question."

"That was your first question about the patient."

Chase just stared at House and the phone in stupefied silence. He didn't know how he was supposed to react to hearing his ex-wife's voice on the other end. Should he be angry? Sad? Hurt? Should he try punching House again?

The blonde really didn't know, right now he was just plain stunned.

"Can we please get back to Thirteen?" Foreman interjected angrily.

"Thirteen?" Cameron questioned in shocked. "Thirteen's the patient?"

"Yep," House said casually.

"What happened?"

"You didn't even read the file did you?" House responded knowingly. "Faxing takes time and effort, you know. The least you could do is read the things I send to you."

"You're not supposed to be sending me anything, House," Cameron protested, momentarily distracted from her earlier question. "I don't work for you anymore."

"That's a good point," Chase commented, finally awaking from his shocked coma. "Let's go with that point for a minute, shall we? Why is she on the phone?"

"Because Cuddy seems to like the idea of me having at least one woman on my team and I couldn't be bothered taking the time to hire another while Thirteen's out of commission," House informed them with a careless shrug of his shoulders. "Also, I thought it would be interesting to see how you two reacted. You haven't spoken since she left. It's soap worthy."

Everyone in the room (and on the phone) gave collective sighs of defeat. There was the sound of rustling paper over the line and Cameron spoke up a moment later. "Have you checked for Endometritis?"

House gave the phone a shrewd look. "Weren't you listening before? It's not Endometritis. Sheesh, I'm surrounded by idiots."

The blonde made an irritated noise in the back of her throat but didn't protest the statement. "It says here that she's been having nosebleeds?"

"Yeah, if Wonder Woman here hadn't shown up to save the day she probably would have chocked on her own blood," House responded carelessly, earning glares from everyone in the room.

"Could be a sinus tumour," she suggested.

"There's no swelling, visual problems, speech impediments or anything else to suggest that."

"What about Cocaine?" she offered and silence filled the room. "What? It's not like her activities last year were that much of a secret."

"We did find some coke in her apartment . . ." Taub trailed off. "It actually does explain quite a bit. She could have continued taking it which would have caused the nosebleeds and maybe even the fainting. Thirteen may even be right in saying that she has the flu, as well."

"It's not drugs," House muttered, mulling over the suggestion.

"You can't know that," Cameron denied.

"It's not drugs because it doesn't explain the Endometritis symptoms. What are the odds that she's having a reaction to coke, Endometritis and the flu all at once?" No-one responded, grudgingly giving into his logic. "Try again."

"Alli?" a voice could be heard calling in the background. There was the sound of a sharp intake of breath and they all frowned. "When are you coming back to play? It's your turn."

"I'll be there in a minute, sweetie," Cameron promised causing them to all frown in confusion.

"Who's that?" House questioned, only to be ignored.

"But it's _your _turn," the voice of a little girl insisted. "_Please_," she begged, drawing out the word.

"I'll be there in a minute, Claire," the blonde promised. "And tell your uncle I have to talk to him about something, OK?"

There was the sound of reluctant footsteps and Cameron's voice came over the line once again. "OK, I'm back."

"Who's the kid?" House asked curiously.

"She's my niece," Allison said quickly. "Can we please get back to the case?"

"What about Leukaemia?" Chase suggested after a pause, already hating the idea. "It explains the fever, the chills and the nosebleed."

"But not her other symptoms."

"Endometritis," Cameron said decidedly.

"Do we need to go over this again? What part of it's-not-Endometritis don't you understand?" House bit back.

"No. We're assuming that just because she's still sicks means it's not Endometritis. But she responded to the treatment, she _did_ have Endometritis. She just has something else as well."

They all sat back in their seats, contemplating the theory. Chase wondered whether House's earlier insistence of it not being Leukaemia was just because of the very simply reason of him not wanting it to be. None of them wanted it to be that – the woman was already dying; in what universe did she deserve this as well?

"Go run her white blood cell count," House ordered, giving in. He didn't seem at all happy about the fact. "And don't forget to run her through an MRI. It'd be absolutely tragic if she had brain damage and we missed it."

…

_**12 or so years ago**_

"_Did God who gave us flowers and trees, _

_Also provide the allergies?"_

_- E.Y. Harburg_

_John sighed as he made his way into his daughter's room. Remy was currently situated on the bed, eyes closed and listening to the sound of her own heartbeat with her mother's stethoscope. He paused a moment to wonder how she had gotten her hands on it as the last time he'd checked it had been safely tucked away in a box at the bottom of his wardrobe. He pushed the thought aside however when his gaze fell on a handful of books spread across her desk. _

_Various covers with words like 'Huntington's', 'Genome', 'Genetics' and 'neurology' jumped out at him and he paused. _

_He frowned and turned back to his daughter who had opened her eyes and was now looking at him. Her expression was dull and her eyes clouded; John hated the look immediately. _

"_Interesting collection you've got here," he commented, trying to sound off hand, as he approached. _

"_I went to the library," she responded as he sat down on the bed beside her. Intuitively, she moved over to make room for him so he could lie beside her. _

"_Honey, you know, if you ever want to talk about what happened, I'm here? I'm here, you can talk to me," he assured, not liking the idea of his youngest child getting all of her answers from books. Books couldn't tell you everything. They could tell you the facts and what to expect but that was only half of it. _

"_Did you know that about 30,000 people have Huntington's nationwide," she stated tonelessly. "I figure that's about 30,000 people who never get to see their grandkids. 30,000 people who leave someone behind. 30,000 broken families. It seems like a lot . . . but I never heard about it until Mum got sick."_

"_Remy . . ." he trailed off, this was exactly what he'd been afraid of happening, or at least one of the things he'd been afraid of; the other one he couldn't even put into words._

"_If you have a parent with Huntington's there's a 50% chance that the child will get it. I figure that that means either Benny or I will get it, we can't both be lucky, right? So I was thinking, and I can't decide, who I would want it to be," she continued before her father could interrupt anymore. He wanted to say something, wanted to reassure her, but how could he when he didn't even know how to reassure himself. "I don't want to lose Benny, but I don't want to die either."_

"_I know," he sighed, pulling her close and kissing her forehead. "I know." And he did. She was giving voice to all his fears and thoughts._

_Just two months ago, Benny had demanded that he get tested for the disorder. Of course, John had denied him and he thought he had won the battle until, just a week later, his son had threatened to get his grandfather to take him instead. John didn't know whether Anne's father would actually go along with it but he certainly wasn't going to wait around to find out._

_There were no words to describe the all encompassing feeling of relief that had set in when the test results had come back negative. That was one less child he had to worry about, one less he had to watch slowly deteriorate and die before their time. _

_But now, with Remy's words ringing in his ears, he thought about it differently. One of his children had been saved but, he couldn't help but think, would he really be lucky enough to receive the same results for his daughter? Could you really face death twice and win? He didn't think so._

_Mr. Hadley didn't know what he'd do if the next words out of Remy's mouth were a request to go and have that same test her brother had had. He couldn't let her take it, he knew that much. She wasn't even fourteen yet and if the results were positive . . . if they were positive . . ._

_He couldn't lose his little girl. _

_Clearing his throat, John reached across and touched the stethoscope which was still planted firmly on her chest. "What are you doing with this, baby?"_

"_Listening to my heart." She glanced across at him sharply. "I'm sorry I took it without asking."_

"_No, no. It's just as much yours as it is mine. You can have it whenever you want."_

_Those seemed to be the wrong words though for she shook her head violently. "It's not mine. It's _hers_. It's not mine."_

"_OK," he breathed, placing a calming hand on her cheek. "It's OK." Her words disturbed him however and he tried not to frown. He was just now beginning to realize that Remy seemed to loathe the idea of being referred to or compared to her mother in any way. He could understand it, though – many a days he felt the same way, especially when someone mentioned just how much Remy was beginning to look like her mother. "Why are you listening to your heartbeat?"_

"_I wanted to see what it sounded like."_

"_And what does it sound like?"_

"_Strong," she answered after a pause. "Too strong to just give up. Hearts are useless, the whole body relies upon them to survive and when it comes time they don't even fight, they just give up."_

_John's frown deepened as he gazed at his door, sensing an underlying meaning to her words. "Honey, I don't think hearts really choose to give up. I think they do their best."_

"_That's not good enough. People die all the time from things out of their control and it's not fair. They're our bodies, __**our **__hearts; we should be able to control what they do." And there was that anger again, blazing in her eyes. How did a little girl have so much anger in her? Her voice quietened and she looked away. "If we don't want a disease, we shouldn't have it."_

"_I know," he agreed. He didn't try to disprove her theory for, honestly, it sounded like a pretty good one to him. He'd felt the same way when Anne's body had been slowly ravished by the irreversible Huntington's, all the while feeling powerless and at the mercy of the disease. _

_Humans had found a way to travel to the moon and yet they still could come up with a simple cure for a couple of genes out of whack. It would never make sense to him. He doubted it would ever make sense to his daughter either. _

_Sighing, he cradled her against him, rejoicing in the fact that she was still there, still whole. His children were all that was left of his world now that his wife was gone. If he were to lose them, Mr. Hadley feared for himself; for when your world died, where else were you to live?_

. . .

Cameron hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment. Her knuckles clenched around the object as she debated over what to do, her skin turning white in the process. She couldn't keep this a secret any longer, she knew that much. He trusted her too much for that and she owed him.

There was the sound of a door opening and a man in his late twenties stepped in. He was wearing black and had a priest's collar around his neck. Cameron's heart clenched at the news she had to deliver.

"Claire said you wanted to speak to me," he told her in explanation. "I think we should make this quick, though, she seems to be getting a little irritated." He smiled at her and Allison tried to smile back but failed miserably. "Who was that on the phone?"

"That was my old boss. You know, the jackass I told you so much about?" She forced a smile here and he chuckled. Allison wanted to capture that laugh and lock it away or, at the very least, freeze this moment in time and hold it in place because what she had to tell him was going to wipe that smile clean off his face. He may even hate her; if he didn't already.

"I think I can remember. What did he want?"

Cameron clenched her mouth, wondering whether there was any hope of changing the subject expertly enough to get back to the game with Claire without any suspicious glances from him. She didn't like her odds.

"That's actually what I need to talk to you about."

He frowned and, sensing the need for it, turned around and closed the door behind him, effectively shutting them in together. There was no escape now.

"_There is a coherent plan to the universe, though I don't know what it's a plan for."_

_- Fred Hoyle_


	12. Comfort

_**A/N: Now, I know I said that was going to update a lot quicker than last time and that was what I had hoped to do but there is a good excuse behind why I didn't. My laptop came down with a virus and I had to get it reimaged (erased), which took long enough in itself, but I also had to back up everything first – a task absolutely impossible because I would need like a million USB sticks and although I had an external hard drive it has already broken down twice and is therefore unreliable – which took ages. A little bit of advice, if a security check shows up on your computer, telling you that you have a whole lot of viruses, that doesn't look like your usual security thing do not click on it to try and get rid of the viruses – it is actually a virus itself, and a really fancy looking one too at that. I hope if this happens to anyone else that they won't be as unlucky as me and click on it; stupid virus.**_

_**Anyway that's my long explanation/excuse and I hope you're not too mad at me. **_

_**And thanks again for the reviews; I love getting them. **_

_**. . .**_

_**Narrator**__: The Encyclopedia Galactica, in its chapter on love, states that it is far too complicated to define. _

_The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy has this to say on the subject of love: "Avoid, if at all possible."__The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy__ (film version)_

Thirteen winced as the needle poked through her skin and Chase smiled apologetically at her. The MRI had gone fine, with no signs of brain damage, and they were now about to test her for Leukaemia; something that the blonde was doing his best to avoid telling her about. It wasn't an easy task either; trying to jab someone with a pointy object was hard enough but trying to do it without first telling them _why_? It was very nearly impossible.

Eventually, the blonde had just gone with the excuse that it was only a routine blood test, a lie which would have been slightly more believable if he had been able to look her in the eyes when saying it, or look at her at all, really.

"You're hiding something," she stated knowingly, watching him with half-closed eyes. Despite being unconscious for the better part of the day she was still exhausted and Chase was tempted to wish her a good afternoon and come back later just so she could get the amount of sleep her body seemed to crave so much. The only thing holding him back from doing so was that House was not above airing his dirty laundry – aka his 'sordid' affair with Thirteen – out to the other fellows if the blonde returned to the differential room empty handed, and Chase really wasn't in the mood to get in a fist fight with Foreman.

He didn't respond to her statement as he focused all his attention on draining the blood out of her arm, a task that was much easier when being performed on someone you didn't know. The brunette took his silence just like any reasonable person with half an IQ would – she assumed she'd been right.

"What does the team think is wrong with me?" Remy asked.

"We're not sure yet," he responded noncommittally and managed to force his eyes up to hers for a good 0.3 of a second before shying away from the confrontation. No, the needle was a much safer thing to look at.

"Then what are you testing for?"

He didn't reply, pulling the needle out of her arm. Thirteen resisted the urge to wince and instead chose to persist. Chase would much rather have preferred the wincing, though he chose not to voice this when he realized it would make him sound far too much like a sadist.

"I'm not some fragile doll, Chase; I can take it, whatever it is. Just don't lie to me."

The Aussie sighed and glanced up at her. He knew she could take it, he really did. If there was one thing he had learned about Thirteen during their time together it was that she was a strong young woman. Even though she had reacted to the news of her Huntington's rather badly at the beginning of last year, she had come back from that with flying colours, not to mention the whole baby thing this year, and Chase respected her a great deal for it. She could be strong. He just didn't want her to have to be. "We're checking your white blood cell count."

She frowned, not liking the sound of that. "You think I have Leukaemia?" Remy asked in disbelief, the thought never having occurred to her.

Chase shook his head. "No, it's just a routine test. Trust me, we're 99% sure that it's something else. We've just got to cover all grounds." He for one was impressed with how believable he sounded, though Thirteen's next statement managed to knock him off his high-horse rather quickly.

Remy smirked slightly at him, unable to stop herself from being slightly amused. "You're a terrible liar."

He grinned back at her. "And you're a terrible patient. You've been making it extremely hard for us to do our jobs." The two shared a smile and Chase paused. "How are you feeling?"

"At the risk of sounding like a whiny little girl, I'll refrain from answering that," she offered with a small smile. Chase nodded his head and Thirteen bit her lip, debating. "Chase . . . Robert," he glanced up at the sound of his first name and she paused, "about what's been going on – this . . . _thing _. . . between us. . ."

Comprehension dawned in his eyes and he nodded his head. "We don't have to talk about it right now." Or ever. At least until Chase was sure how exactly he felt about this 'thing' between them.

Thirteen took in a deep breath. "I can't . . ." she trailed off, trying to form the appropriate words and Chase was certain that now was definitely not the time to talk about this. Too much had happened recently for either one of them to think clearly enough to come to an appropriate and non-rash decision; at least, that was how he felt. "It was a mistake."

She was looking at him straight on, her voice didn't tremble and she didn't look at all guilty like someone who was lying would. For all intents and purposes Remy appeared completely honest. So why didn't he believe her?

Chase looked away, deciding that whatever it was that was making him doubt her words now was not the time to bring it into the light. Later, when she was better and out of the hospital, maybe then he would bring it up again. Or not. "OK."

"I'm sorry," she apologised.

"Hey," he reassured, reaching out a hand and grabbing her own. "Don't worry about it. I was drunk, you were . . . going through some stuff and one thing led to another. Don't stress."

She gazed at him, touched by his understanding. "I didn't want to hurt you. I just . . . needed someone."

"Hey, we both took advantage of each other," he responded outwardly brushing off her remark even though inwardly his insides prickled with . . . something. "Though, if you're feeling really guilty I suppose you could always clean my house for me once you get out of here. Yours is pretty spotless." As much as he liked the cluttered rat hole that was his condo, even he had to admit that, when you couldn't take one step in front of you without hitting something that he'd much prefer not to think about, things needed to change.

She chuckled slightly and looked down at their clasped hands. Absentmindedly, she ran her finger over his knuckles, knowing that she shouldn't but liking the feeling of doing so anyway. It was comforting, in a way.

Comfort was nice, even if it did come from the most unexpected of places.

. . .

_Five Weeks Ago _

_Thirteen moaned into Chase's mouth as he pushed her back roughly against the wall of her living room. After spending most of the night suffering from inner turmoil – to terminate or not to terminate – she had finally given up and decided that it was time for a distraction. Her usual methods were out of the picture since alcohol and/or drugs would harm the ba–fetus, even if there was only a small chance she would keep it._

_That had left only one option: sex. _

_Remy had considered going out to a club to pick up some woman or, if all else failed, a man but had quickly scratched out the idea. Just because she had decided not to do those other two distractions did not mean she was a saint. When it came to resisting temptation, Thirteen failed miserably, and a club filled up with alcohol and other more dangerous forms of drugs was not a good place to test her restraint. _

_She'd even thought about calling up Eric but that idea had been thrown out almost instantly. Things were way too complicated at the moment to even consider going down that path._

_That left her with two other options: her crack-whore next door neighbour that had been hitting on her for the past two years (once again, though, that ran the risk of drugs and booze) or somebody else from work._

_Taub had been crossed off the list immediately – even if he wasn't married, there was no way she'd ever sleep with him. Stacy – a lesbian nurse in E.R. – had crossed her mind and she'd even gone as far as to ring her up – no answer. Thirteen even allowed herself to contemplate the idea of calling House but she tossed the idea upon imagining the many snarky comments she would be subjected to at work the next day._

_That just left one Robert Chase._

_His wife had just left him (so anger sex wouldn't be out of the question), he was hot and, as far as she could tell, had recently been drowning his sorrows in the bottle (so he should be easy). The cons, of course, were that she worked with him so no doubt there would be tension between them for weeks, if not months, to come. There was also his friendship with Foreman and the last thing Remy wanted to do was mess up their relationship. _

_The end result was the same, though. All that was left was Chase._

_Of course, she hadn't rung him up and asked point blank whether he wanted to fuck – that would just be impolite. Instead, she'd invited him over for drinks (the fact that it was 1:30 in the morning didn't seem to register on either of their minds). He'd agreed almost instantly, seeming, just like her, happy for the distraction and had shown up at her apartment shortly after. _

_It turned out that Remy hadn't even needed to worry about wasting her time with small talk as, the moment he was through the door, their lips were locked in a passionate kiss. It seemed that he had had the same thing on his mind when she had called him up._

_So that brought them to where they were now – crowded up against the wall of her living room, the bedroom apparently being deemed too far out of their way._

_Chase's lips pressed into the hollow of her neck and she shifted, panting slightly. It had been too long since the last time she had had slept with anyone and just the feel of someone else's mouth on her skin was enough to send her sky-high._

"_You sure about this?" he breathed, his warm breath raising Goosebumps on the area that he had just kissed. Remy shivered; whether from the excitement or the cold, she couldn't tell. _

_The brunette nodded against him, face flushed. "Don't stop."_

_He didn't._

_. . ._

Thirteen watched as Chase exited the room, off to run the necessary tests on her blood. The idea that she could have leukaemia had left her numb to most things and she could hardly even process the information. It wasn't like when she'd gotten her Huntington's diagnosis – she had been pretty numb then, too, to begin with but her mind had also been completely clouded with what it had meant, even if she couldn't feel a thing – but almost as though the words had been said to someone else; Remy couldn't connect them with herself. She couldn't think about what this could mean because she couldn't allow herself to believe that it could mean _anything_.

There was already too much going on in life at this point to add Leukaemia to the mix.

The brunette frowned and gazed down at her hand, the one that Chase had been holding only moments before. She hadn't been lying when she'd said that what had been happening between them was a mistake, that she couldn't do it anymore, but Remy had managed to evade from the actual truth. The truth was . . . she liked him, a lot more than she should and certainly more than a friend, and that, on top of everything else, was just something she couldn't deal with at the moment.

It had taken a great deal of optimism, which had appeared as a completely foreign part of her, to start dating Foreman last year and look how that had ended up. And if one followed her past track record with relationships, they weren't much better either. But it was more than that now.

The only reason she had allowed herself to date Foreman in the first place was because Thirteen had foolishly believed that there was a chance her Huntington's could be cured with the drug trial. The only reason she had continued to date him after she had found out that there was no hope for her disease was because, at the time, they had both already put too much into the relationship to suddenly back out.

But Remy couldn't put Chase through the same thing her mother had put her father through, especially after his failed marriage with Cameron. He deserved to settle down with someone who was going to be with him for many more years and give him children, not someone who was eventually going to forget that she had ever cared about him in the first place. She cared about him too much for that and, slightly more selfishly, a part of her didn't want anything more that was going to tie her down to this world, inevitably making leaving it even harder.

_. . ._

"Her blood showed a low count of white cells," Chase announced watching as everyone in the room seemed to deflate at the news. He'd been the exact same way when looking over the results in the lab for the very first time.

"Leukaemia," Foreman sighed, his dejected tone mirroring how everyone else seemed to feel.

The blonde however shook his head. "I thought the same thing so I did a bone marrow aspiration –Negative," he finished, trying not to let on how relieved by the fact he was . . . or that he had done a little happy dance after he had gotten the results from the procedure, a very embarrassing one too (made even more so when one of the nurses had walked in on him). There were just some things that should never be known.

He needn't have bothered – all those gathered around the table visibly sagged in relief at the news, even House looked slightly better for wear. Unfortunately, the fact that she wasn't dying from a horrible disease like leukaemia still didn't rule out the one that she was still dying or point them in the direction of figuring out whether they would be attending her funeral in about ten years or just next week; the last thought nearly caused Chase to shudder. This seemed to register with everyone rather quickly for the relief only lasted a short amount of time.

"What next?" Foreman asked the question that they were all thinking; well, all of them but House apparently.

"Me going and interrogating her," Their boss decided, ignoring the apprehensive looks on all of their faces. It was at this instance that Chase realized he really should have invested in getting a security guard placed outside Thirteen's room to keep the old cripple out – any interrogation with House involved could only end badly, as they all knew very well.

. . .

_Five Weeks Ago, That Morning._

_Chase watched Thirteen lazily from the bed as she rose to her feet, not seeming to care that she was completely naked without the sheets to shield her. Last night had been . . . unexpected. Though, Chase didn't know what he had expected when he got that call at 1:30 in the morning. It certainly hadn't been this, though._

_He didn't even know what he had been thinking. This was _Thirteen_, his co-worker, not just someone he could have a one-night-stand with and hope never to see again. They'd be lucky if they were still able to go about the day and keep things callously professional between them, even luckier if House never found out and, in conjunction, Foreman. _

_The blonde resisted the urge to groan at the reminder of his friend. This was a definite cross over the friendship line and if it was Foreman who had slept with Cameron, Chase would have been beyond the point of angry. _

_And that brought him to Cameron. The woman he was still very much married to despite her disappearance. The woman that a part of him was still in love with . . ._

_This was not good._

_Yet, the sight of Thirteen standing naked right in front of him as she searched for something to put on was certainly making it hard to believe that it was anything _but_ good. He was a man after all and Thirteen was certainly not ugly, far from it actually . . ._

'_Alright, bad thoughts, bad thoughts, remember the part where she's your friend's ex?'_

_Chase did groan this time and the brunette glanced back at him, startled. "You're awake." By now she had managed to procure a bathrobe that had been tossed aside nearby and the blonde was eternally grateful for that._

"_Where are you going?" he enquired._

_Thirteen bit her lip and approached the bed, taking a seat on the edge (far away from him). "Look, this was a bad idea. Can we just, I don't know, pretend last night never happened?"_

_After a pause the Australian nodded; he'd been thinking the exact same thing. "Sure."_

_Little did he know that 'last night' was just the beginning of a whole lot more of 'last nights' and he was practically powerless to stop it. Far more terrifying was the fact that, if he had known, Chase might not have done anything to stop it anyway. There was comfort in Thirteen's arms, a comfort that he had spent far too long without, a similarity, he suspected, that could be found in Thirteen. At the present point in the young doctor's life, with everything pretty much going to hell, that was a comfort that, even though he didn't know it yet, that he just couldn't live without._

…

"_comfort was allowed to come to them rare, welcome, unsought: a gift like joy." _

_- Michellee Ursula K. LeGuin quotes (American Writer best known for tales of science fiction, b.1929)_


	13. The Reality

"_Every time I close the door on reality it comes in through the windows." _

_~Jennifer Yane_

Thirteen stared blankly at House as he continued on with his ridiculous line of questioning. So far she had had to answer things such as, 'How much money would it cost me for you to give a lap dance to Cuddy?', 'Who's better in bed? Forman or Chase?' (though she couldn't see why he would want to know), and 'Are there any hidden sex tapes in your apartment involving yourself and some other super hot chick?'. After the first ten, she'd given up trying to stop him, moved onto glaring and then, when that didn't work, just tried her best to ignore him. The brunette was rather hoping that old saying about 'if you ignore them, they will go away' would be true when it came to House.

It wasn't.

"House, what does any of this have to do with my symptoms?"

The doctor seemed to think about it for a moment. "Think of it as me trying to get to know you better before you die."

She stared at him for a moment, unimpressed. "I never knew you cared," Remy said blandly before rolling her eyes and readjusting her position in bed. This was definitely not the best time to have a chat with House. One: because no time was a good time to have a chat with House, two: it was _House_, and three: the headache she'd had all day wasn't getting any better and it was almost night time now.

"You'd be surprised how very much I care." The sentiment was ruined by obvious mocking behind his tone. "Ever been a hooker?"

Thirteen raised an eyebrow at the question. "Have you?"

"Once, in tenth grade. But that was just so I could hang out with Apple Candy and Rainbow kiss in my spare time. Not to mention I got to see them topless," he responded easily, taking a seat beside her.

She didn't know whether he was pulling her leg or telling the truth but if it was the latter she definitely didn't want to know. Thirteen actually wanted to be able to look at her boss again with a straight face once this was all over, as strange as that sounded. "House, is there a point to this conversation? Or are you just trying to annoy me?" she asked tiredly, mostly just wanting him to be gone so she could get some sleep. It had been an exhausting couple of weeks, emotionally and physically, and all she wanted to do was curl up in front of the T.V. at home and watch reruns of whatever crappy show happened to be on at the time, maybe even get a good laugh. Of course, seeing as she was in a hospital that wasn't likely to happen anytime soon. Still, getting some sleep would be just as good.

"I'm trying to find out what's wrong with you," he replied as if it was obvious.

"By asking about whether I've ever been a hooker and all about my bed partners?" she asked in disbelief, knowing that this wanting her boss trying to fix her but rather just House being House . . . and that was never good.

"Exactly. I'm glad we're on the same page."

"Of course."

He nods his head and takes out a folder, flipping through it carelessly. Thirteen's stomach twisted at the action, never having liked the idea of House having access to her medical record. If he wasn't the best diagnostic around she might have had herself transferred to another hospital but, knowing House, he would have found a way around that anyway. "I've been reading your file," he informed her as if she hadn't already guessed.

"Of course you have," she muttered with a strained smile. Once again, the urge to hit her boss with his own cane arose and she clenched her fists; Thirteen was not going to spend what little of her life was left behind bars for assaulting a 'respected' and 'remarkable' doctor.

House glanced at her over his glasses and smirked slightly. God, she hated that look. "You were hospitalized when you were seventeen for a few days."

For a moment, she stiffened but, after recollecting herself, tried to brush the comment off. "Your point being?"

"Cuddy's hidden the files that say why. The only reason she would do that if it was some juicy little titbit that you wouldn't want us to know about. And by 'us' I mean 'me'."

"Or . . ." she began, drawing out the word with a pointed look. "Cuddy didn't hide the files and the only reason it's not written in there is because it was nothing important, like maybe I fell off a horse and had a concussion."

House frowns. "You don't have a horse."

"My Uncle owns several farms across the country, including one in Texas. I used to go there on the holidays," Thirteen told him with a triumphant look.

For a moment he appeared stumped and the brunette allowed herself an instant to gloat; it wasn't often that you could get one up on House. "They still would have written that down," he insisted after a pause, flipping through the file again.

"Coming from a doctor who doesn't write _anything_ down about any of his patients," she retorted, ignoring the ache that was reaching a searing level of pain on the side of her head. It wasn't the worst headache she'd ever had, certainly not as bad as last year when she'd gotten the tumour, so because of this she decided it was entirely manageable. And it was, as long as House got in touch with his merciful side and left soon.

So, in that case, not very manageable then.

He ignored her remark and continued. "That scar you've got on your cheek, it would have needed stitches and you said you got it when you were fifteen, but you were never in a hospital when you were fifteen; not even a Canadian one." Now it was his turn to look triumphant and Thirteen shook her head in disbelief.

"House, this has nothing to do with anything. How and when I got this scar, where I was treated, it's none of your business. I know that's hard for you to accept but try." She knew immediately that she had said the wrong thing for if anything, House only looked more like the cat who had caught the canary and Thirteen wanted to kick herself. Her acting all defensive was the last thing she should have done – it just got House even more interested.

"Just trying to cover all grounds. You understand," he told her simply. "Now . . ."

She blocked out the rest of what he was saying, something over his shoulder grabbing her attention. Thirteen squinted in confusion, not quite making out the shape, but as it got closer fear pooled in her belly and she felt her throat close up. There was no way, absolutely no way . . .

The figure drew ever nearer but despite this House remained oblivious as he prattled on about whatever caught his attention (Thirteen really didn't care at this point). She knew she should say something, speak up before it was too late, but she was frozen, powerless.

It was a feeling she had experienced before but certainly not one she could ever grow used to and her mouth opened slightly in shock. Only when the person opened their own mouth to speak did anything change.

"Hello, sunshine."

Darkness filled Thirteen's vision.

. . .

"What causes hallucinations?" House asked, limping back into the differential room the next morning. His little ducklings glanced up at him in confusion.

"Why?" Foreman asked.

"Thirteen – she's hallucinating," House explained as if it was the most simple and obvious thing in the world; really, they should have guessed.

"And this happened this morning?" Chase questioned in shock..

"No, actually it happened yesterday," he replied, taking a seat at his desk. "I just couldn't be bothered telling you until now."

"Thirteen starts hallucinating and you can't be 'bothered' to make a short trip back here and tell us about it?" Foreman asked slowly, clearly thinking House's reasoning was insane. Nonetheless, he didn't look surprised and neither did Taub.

"I had to get back in time for the O.C.," House explained as if that excused everything.

Chase frowned in confusion, momentarily side-tracked. "I thought that finished years ago."

His boss nodded and brought out his lap top. "They're showing reruns. And there's this hot lesbian punk-rocker or whatever called Alex who looks suspiciously like Thirteen. You all would have done the same in my position."

Taub frowned. "Alex isn't a lesbian, she's bisexual." Realization dawned in his eyes as everyone turned to stare at him in disbelief. "Not that I've ever watched the O.C." He paused, before adding on for good effect, "I have a life."

"Again: what causes hallucinations?" House asked lazily after a long stretching silence. He didn't seem at all bothered by the fact that one of his fellows was currently hospitalized and experiencing hallucinations . . . or that another secretly harboured a secret O.C. obsession.

"How do you know she's hallucinating?" Chase questioned.

"She fainted."

The three men stared at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop. "And?" the Aussie prompted.

"There needs to be an 'and'?" their boss asked innocently.

"She's been fainting on off since before she was even admitted. That doesn't suggest hallucinations," Foreman pointed out.

"No," House allowed, spinning his laptop around to face the team. "But this does." Moving his mouse over to press play, the doctor stepped back so the fellows could see what was so interesting on his laptop. For a moment, the screen remained rather blank but then a video of Thirteen's room appeared and their eyebrows rose in disbelief.

"You put a video camera in her room?" Chase questioned incredulously. The expressions on his fellow work mates clearly suggested that they shared his astonishment.

"Better – I put a _hidden_ video camera in her room. By the way, quite a riveting conversation you two had earlier, very touching. Really, it pulled at my heart strings," House responded to the blonde. Chase scowled at him and Foreman glanced over at him in confusion. "You realize she was lying right?" the older doctor continued unperturbed.

"And back to the video we go," Taub interrupted before Chase could be given the proper time ponder House's comment.

"Spoil sport," House reprimanded. "This is yesterday's log. See, there I am and there she is," he informed them, pointing to each individual on the screen in turn, as if they were kindergarten kids and he was the teacher. "And very soon you're going to see exactly what I'm talking about."

There was a pause.

"Oh my God, it's amazing," Chase deadpanned. "I totally get why you think she hallucinated now."

House turned around and sent him a look. "Not yet, you idiot."

They waited a bit longer, eyebrows rising ever higher when House questioned whether Thirteen had ever been a hooker.

"You were a hooker in the tenth grade?" Foreman asked with a smirk.

"Best time of my life," he responded simply, watching the screen. A few seconds later, he spoke up again. "And she faints," he narrated as Thirteen passed out in her hospital bed.

The fellows frowned.

"I don't get it," Taub voiced what they were all thinking.

House rolled his eyes and rewound a few seconds. "This is just before she fainted. Right there," he said, pausing the video and pointing at the screen. "She's looking at something over my shoulder."

"Maybe she just got bored with whatever you were talking about," Chase suggested with a smirk.

"I was asking her when she would consider having a threesome with Cuddy and I; I don't think she got very bored," he snarked back.

Foreman frowned and leaned forward in his seat. "House is right. She looks scared. Was there anyone else in the room with you?"

"Just me, myself and I." They all frowned at the screen, watching a Thirteen who did indeed seem to be very freaked out about something over House's shoulder. Seeing that he had finally got their attention, House continued, "Again I ask: what causes hallucinations?"

"It could be any number of things," Foreman spoke up, at a loss. Chase rather agreed with him. They had a bout of symptoms that weren't making any sense, at least not to his tired out brain, and a team that he had been working with only the power of coffee to fuel them for the fast few days; looking for a needle in a haystack would be easier than this.

The blonde had a feeling, though, that if this was any other patient they all would have had the diagnosis by now. They were too close, too invested in this case to work properly. Their emotions were clouding their rationality, it was the only excuse he could think of to explain what was happening other than the idea that they were all just a bunch of idiots.

"Good," House responded sarcastically. "Let's start with that. See how long it takes for her to die before we narrow it down."

"She may not be dying," Taub reminded rationally.

"In my experience, ten out of ten of the patients we get usually are," their boss reminded in a sardonic tone, earning scowls all around.

Chase sighed, flinging his hand out in exasperation. "The hallucinations are probably a result of the fever. It may not even be a real symptom."

"It's cocaine abuse," Taub cut in, persisting on with his earlier theory.

House sent him an odd look. "Now I know you're just trying to squeeze every little drop of praise out of the fact that you found her secret stash. It's not cocaine abuse, you idiot." He snapped the last part.

"Why not?" he asked calmly. It wasn't that he had anything against Thirteen but from his experience when there were drugs they were usually the problem. "She's an addict. Cocaine abuse is the most plausible."

Foreman shook his head tiredly. "She's not an addict. She just takes it every once and a while."

"And you know this for certain?" Taub asked. "Just like you knew that she had started doing drugs again in the first place?"

Foreman scowled and Chase quickly intervened. "She's been in the hospital for almost two whole days. If it was cocaine abuse she'd be getting better by now, not worse."

House nodded, agreeing. "It's good to know that at least one of you has a brain."

Foreman frowned. "I already said she wasn't a coke addict."

"You only said that because she's your ex," the older doctor disagreed. "The fact that she is, also proves that you don't have a brain."

"What about Lupus?" Chase suggested quickly, more to keep everyone's minds on the case then because he believed it to be an appropriate diagnosis.

House levelled him with a stare. "And here I was thinking you had a brain. Next!"

Taub opened his mouth to make another suggestion but stopped himself when the door to the differential room was pushed open and Cuddy stepped in. Chase immediately knew it wasn't good just from the look on her face which was a cross between grim and 'Why me?'.

"Ah, it's Cuddy and her bags of joy. Perhaps you have a suggestion other than cocaine and lupus?" House spoke up, not even looking at her as he typed a few words into his laptop.

"What are you doing?" Chase asked curiously, momentarily distracted from Cuddy's sudden appearance.

"Searching Remy Hadley, you'd be surprised at how much Google can turn up these days. I'd try Thirteen but it kept taking me to disturbing Halloween pages last night," House replied nonchalantly.

"And _why_ are you looking into Thirteen?"

"Almost three years she's worked for me and I still don't know everything about her. Something has to be done." He paused and gestured at his boss. "Also I knew it would piss off Cuddy."

The dean frowned and crossed her arms, looking on the brink of slapping him. "House this is important."

"So is this," he insisted.

"You'll be getting a page," Cuddy went on, despite the interruption. "I just talked to one of the nurses in charge of Dr. Hadley."

Everyone paused in what they were doing and turned to stare at her, including House. Chase had a feeling this wasn't good and that feeling seemed to be shared by everyone around him. Now that she had all their attention it appeared the dean didn't know what to do with it and she paused.

"Out with it woman. We don't have all day," House snarked earning a scowl from the woman in question.

"Dr. Hadley's gone into a coma," she finished finally, briskly.

House sat back in his seat, face expressionless and the three fellows exchanged stunned looks. For a moment that was all they could do – sit and look stunned – and Chase tried to remember something of significance about the last time he had seen her. Had there been some kind of sign to warn them of this? He couldn't remember.

"Someone should contact her family," Taub offered finally.

Cuddy immediately shook her head. "When Dr. Hadley was first admitted I offered but she flat-out refused. She doesn't want any of her family involved in this at all."

House scoffed. "Ever notice that what Thirteen wants and what she needs very rarely coincide?"

Cuddy just shook her head, at a loss. "I'm not at liberty to make this decision for her . . ."

"She's in a coma," Chase interjected. "She's not going to be making any decisions for herself until she wakes up, and that might not even happen. Call her family."

"That won't be necessary," a voice cut in from the doorway – a very familiar voice – and they all turned towards it in confusion. Their confusion turned to shock almost instantly at the sight of one Allison Cameron, standing in the differential room looking like she'd never left.

"Allison?" Chase questioned in shock.

The blonde opened her mouth to reply but stopped when three other people made their presences known behind her. A man in his late fifties stepped forward, followed shortly after by a young man dressed up as a priest and who was keeping a tight hold on a little blonde girl by his side.

"Where's my daughter?" the older man asked.

No-one fainted in surprise at the question but Chase wouldn't have been surprised if they did.


	14. Family Ties

_**A/N: I'm afraid there's not so much about Chase in this chapter but that will come in the next. Mostly this is House and Cameron, along with Thirteen's father. **_

…

"_In each family a story is playing itself out, and each family's story embodies its hope and despair."_

_- Auguste Napier _

House stared at the young blonde girl who was currently sitting comfortably on Cameron's lap. Taub had opted to show Thirteen's brother and father to her room and, since the little girl had firmly refused to go with them, Cameron had offered to stay behind and keep an eye on her. House had, of course, stated that he was more than capable of looking after the 'little dear' to which the blonde had only replied with a, "I know. That's why I'm staying," which House thought to be rather assumptive on her part. Just because he had plans to interrogate the kid didn't mean that he was unreliable, just that he had ulterior motives.

Chase and Foreman were both very quiet, each lost in their own personal worlds of torment. The Australian had his gaze firmly focused on the back of his wife's head and his expression seemed to be having trouble deciding on whether to look suspicious, pissed off or just plain confused. Eventually it decided on something completely different all together: stupefaction. It seemed to suit him very well.

"What's your name, kid?" House asked since it looked like nobody else was going to.

The little blonde girl gazed at him out of narrowed eyes. She seemed very suspicious of him which made House wonder just what Cameron had told her about him. Hopefully only good things. "Claire."

House nodded as if that meant something and his head turned to Cameron who was also watching him suspiciously. "She yours?"

All heads shot up at that one and she blushed. "Don't be ridiculous, House. You know she isn't mine."

"Fine," House sighed before continuing after a pause, "Is she Thirteen's?"

"House!" the three other adults chided while the kid just chose to glare at him balefully.

"Hey, it's an honest question. You look like her." Alarmingly so, even. He cocked his head to the side, taking in the gray eyes and cute little button nose. She was either Thirteen's kid or possibly the spawn of one of those elves from Lord of the Rings; he was having difficulty deciding.

"I'm her sister," Claire told him. She didn't seem too happy about the fact and House understood her plight; he wouldn't want to be Thirteen's sister either – after all, being around someone that hot and _not_ being allowed to sleep with them? That was just the purest form of torture.

"You're too young to be her sister," the doctor pointed out. "Your mother would have been dead before you were born."

Here, Cameron decided to intervene. "Her father remarried about two years after Thirteen's mother's death. Claire was the result."

Nope; something was still very fishy about this and House was determined to find out what. "I didn't see a wife."

"She died," Claire told him simply, looking very much like she didn't like him.

"You don't sound very upset about that."

"I don't even remember her."

House continued to study her. It was a likely explanation but there was still something . . .

Her eyes.

Before he could voice his new discovery however Cameron was already herding Claire out of the room with the excuse of getting her lunch. She didn't even spare a glance back at Chase who by now was looking like something that resembled a kicked puppy.

House frowned, mulling this new development over; interesting.

. . .

_**12 Years Ago**_

_It was 10:30 when Remy finally drifted off to sleep, her small hands fisted around his work shirt, the stethoscope still in her ears. She was peaceful in her sleep, the way she never was when awake. Her chest rose and fell with every breath, each heave evidence of the life within her, of her body's continued fighting. _

_Mind wandering, he turned over slightly and gazed at her bedside table. There was a thought that had been nagging at him ever since returning home from the principal's office. It was a traitorous thought but maybe . . ._

_He reached out a hand and opened the drawer. Instantly his insides deflated. There, resting on the bottom, was a golden cross. _

_John found no relief in the knowledge that it hadn't been lost after all. _

. . .

John Hadley gazed at his daughter with expressionless eyes after stepping into her room. It had been so long since the last time he had laid eyes on her and this was how they met again? He couldn't wrap his head around it. His beautiful daughter, his Remy, was this pale and sick looking young woman in a hospital bed right in front of him. This was his daughter.

He couldn't believe it.

Glancing back at his son, it seemed he didn't quite believe it either. Benny was staring at his little sister in uncomprehending disbelief, fingers clenching around the bible in his hands, the one he'd refused to let go of ever since Allison had told them about what had happened. Mr. Hadley wondered bitterly what answers God held for his son in those pages when it came to this. Had their Lord not already taken enough from them that he had to send sickness down on his daughter, too?

There was a time when John had been a faithful Christian boy, one who always tied his shoelaces and said his prayers before bed, but so much had happened since he was a boy, too much, and Mr. Hadley was running out of forgiveness when it came to his God.

Sighing, John reached out a firm hand and grasped onto Remy's warm one. It was still so smooth and small compared to his own. It felt just like the last time he had held it, the only thing that hadn't changed since then.

"I'll leave you alone now," the doctor – Taub, he thought his name was – excused himself, before backing out of the room.

That was another thing – his Remy was now a doctor. Just like his Anne had been. Mr. Hadley didn't feel pride at this knowledge, merely concern. It was yet another thing that the two most important women in his life had in common. He could only hope it was the last thing.

Feeling a chill run down his back at the still ever present question mark hanging over whether his daughter had inherited the terrible disease that had taken apart his wife, John forced himself to take a seat in the visitor's chair beside the brunette's bedside.

He looked at her face which seemed far too peaceful given the circumstances and ran a thumb across her hand. He wasn't worried; he couldn't allow himself to worry. His Remy was strong and she would get past this.

…

Cameron sighed, watching Claire as the little girl picked and prodded at her canteen food but still refused to eat any of it. Being back at TPPH was difficult enough for the young doctor without having to worry about how this whole situation was affecting the nine-year-old. Of course, House hadn't helped matters.

"Are you going to eat that, sweetie?" she asked gently.

Claire didn't respond and Allison sighed. She loved kids and perhaps even considered herself good with them but Claire was no ordinary child and these were no ordinary circumstances. For a moment she wished either Benny or Mr. Hadley was present – at least one of them would know how to handle the little girl – but remembered that right now they had quite enough on their plate. When Cameron had told them that not only did she know where Remy was but that she was also sick, it had been shock enough, but arriving at the hospital only to find out that she was in a coma had certainly tipped the scale.

"I need to go to the bathroom," the girl finally stated, looking up emotionlessly from her meal.

Cameron nodded slowly before pointing at a door over in the distance. "It's right over there. Do you need me to come with you?"

Claire shook her head and rose from her seat. Allison watched her go with mournful eyes, wondering what in the world had possessed her to offer to baby sit.

"Can I take this seat?" a sarcastic and familiar voice asked, appearing beside Claire's vacant chair.

Cameron closed her eyes and prayed for strength before opening them again. House was already seated. "What do you want, House?"

"You knew Thirteen," he stated, taking one of Claire's fries. "The whole time she was working for me, you were holding out on valuable information."

The blonde shook her head. "I knew Thirteen's brother. I knew her father. I don't think I ever knew Thirteen."

"How?"

"What?"

"How did you know her family?"

Cameron frowned, wondering what this had to do with anything. "I went out with her brother in college. Why?"

"You went out with a priest? I think that might just be more shocking than the fact that you married a dying man. You sure know how to pick them." He smirked but continued when Cameron sent him a look. "If you went out with her brother, means you have to have known things. Like, say, the fact that Thirteen's mother died of Huntington's. That your boyfriend's sister was bisexual, maybe?"

"Not necessarily but you're right, I knew those things. But only because Benny adores his sister and talked about her constantly when we were together. I really only met Thirteen what must have been four times, and then only briefly." Internally, she was muttering a string of silent pleas for her former boss to go away; she did not want to get into this now, or ever for that matter.

"I still can't believe you held out information on me about her. Why didn't you tell?" Despite his words, House seemed very much like he could believe it and believe it well. He also appeared almost gleeful at the fact as though the idea of goody-two-shoes Allison Cameron keeping such a big secret and lying to everyone was something to be treasured; typical House.

Cameron shrugged her shoulders. "She didn't want me to, not that I would ever tell you anything about anyone anyway."

House seemed to be thinking of his next interrogation question and the blonde sighed, wondering what she had done to deserve this. "Cuddy said she didn't want to contact her family – why?"

Cameron remained tight-lipped. She didn't feel at all comfortable about spilling information about Thirteen, a woman who had made very clear the fact that she wanted to keep her private life _private_. Not that that had ever deterred House, of course.

"You know if you don't tell me I'll just find out eventually anyway. At least if you tell me now, you'll save her family from being rudely interrupted from their mourning time and henceforth interrogated."

She rolled her eyes at his antics, knowing that she should have expected such an answer. For a moment, Allison imagined setting loose this monster on the Hadley family and immediately shuddered away from the thought. "She ran away from home when she was seventeen. She hasn't seen her family since," Cameron told him simply. "The thirst thing she did upon arriving here was ask me not to tell her family where she was. I accepted. Other than that, we've barely spoken to each other."

House frowned, puzzling over that. "Your loyalty should have been to her brother because you went out with him, not her. So why didn't you tell?"

"Because it's none of my business," she pointed out, clearly saying with her eyes that she thought it was none of his either.

"Never stopped you from interfering in things before. You interfere with patient's lives because you care. You knew her, you knew her family – you had even more reason to care. Surmise to say, you should have been interfering all over the place. So why didn't you?" He was gazing at her suspiciously and not for the first time she imagined herself reaching out and slapping him across the face. If she wasn't so afraid of causing a scene and being chucked out of the hospital she might have done more than imagine it.

"I wanted to. I thought they should know. I thought she needed them. Especially when it went around the hospital that she had Huntington's. But she wasn't ready and I couldn't make her ready. After that psycho held you up in the E.R. and she almost died, I got in the car and drove to their house. I was in the car for two hours debating whether or not to go in. I kept thinking, 'What if she had died and they never got to see her again?' Eventually, I ended up turning around and going home." She took a sip out of her drink. "It's not my place to interfere. And it's not yours either."

"Who says I was going to interfere?" House asked, trying to look his best picture of innocence. Needless to say, he failed miserably.

Cameron sent him a look over the rim of her coffee cup. "You always interfere."

"You said she ran away when she was seventeen," he began, ignoring her comment. "That'd be round about the time little lady Claire was born. What are the odds that she had the kid, dumped the kid and took off into the sunset afterwards?"

Cameron smiled thinly. "Wrong again. Claire was born at least six months before Thirteen ran away, so how do you explain that?" She resisted the urge to smirk when she saw him frown, obviously trying to figure out a way around her words. Giving up, he changed the subject.

"You know, you left the differential room with Chase looking like a kicked puppy," her former boss started slyly. "I guess you're not planning on talking things out with him."

Cameron scowled at the mention of her husband and she felt the beginnings of a headache coming on. "I don't want to talk about Chase." If she got on the topic of Chase no doubt she would soon become a blubbering mess as she started to think over the many problems she still hadn't dealt with. Then she would wonder whether she had done the right thing in leaving him and then the divorce papers in the back of her car would make an appearance and she would start stressing over whether or not to give them to him. Nope, better to stay off the subject of Robert Chase.

Coming back to the hospital had been a very hard decision for her and certainly not one she had wanted to go through with. If it wasn't for the Hadley family, practically pleading for her support, she would have turned tail and run the moment they pulled into the parking lot.

Someone cleared their throat nearby and the both turned to see Claire standing not too far away, glaring at House. "I think that's my chair."

"Aw, isn't she adorable," House commented. "Not only does she look just like Thirteen but she acts like her too."

"House!" Cameron cried in exasperation, wondering how best to get it through his thick head that Claire was _not_ Thirteen's daughter.

Claire, for her part, seemed rather insulted by his comment."I'm not anything like her! And my hair is blonde."

House, however, didn't look convinced and cocked his head to the side, studying her face. "You have her eyes."

Cameron sighed. "House, she's Thirteen's sister. Of course she looks like her. Most siblings do, even half ones."

The doctor shrugged his shoulders and snatched another chip. "The only thing is," he began, rising from his seat. "She doesn't look like Thirteen's father. She looks like Thirteen's mother, who, according to your little story, she isn't related to at all." He grinned at them, clearly finding the whole situation very amusing. "I'll talk to you kids later."

Allison groaned and buried her head in her hands, wondering when on earth this day would end.

. . .

"_We are threatened with suffering from three directions: from our own body, which is doomed to decay and dissolution and which cannot even do without pain and anxiety as warning signals; from the external world, which may rage against us with overwhelming and merciless forces of destruction; and finally from our relations to other men. The suffering which comes from this last source is perhaps more painful than any other."_

_- Sigmund Freud _


	15. Don't Let the Worries Get to You

_**A/N: God, I have to say, thankyou so much for all the reviews people have given throughout this story. They really do give me the proper motivation to keep on writing and I really appreciate the time you've taken to write them so thankyou. **_

Chase gazed in through the window at Thirteen's motionless body. Mr. Hadley and her brother were both currently in the room which was why he had opted to stay outside, he also didn't know what would happen to him if he went in there. The blonde expected that he should feel some kind of sadness, after all, Thirteen was a friend – not to mention one that he'd been sleeping with for the past few weeks – or at least some keen sense of worry but he didn't. He felt nothing. Just a strong sense of numbness.

For the moment, he was OK with that, though. It was better if he kept it that way which was why, most of all, he didn't want to go inside. Going inside would make it all the more real and he didn't think his numbness could survive that.

And to lose the numbness meant pain and he'd already suffered enough of that.

Then there was Cameron: a totally unforseen complication that Chase also didn't know how to feel about. Though, the difference was, when it came to her, he did actually feel something. He felt hurt and resentment, not to mention anger, and also confusion.

He didn't know exactly why she was here and what that meant for the two of them which meant that he also didn't know where the two of them stood. Technically, they were still husband and wife but . . .

It had been almost two months since she had walked out their door and since then he hadn't heard a word from her. Then there was Thirteen, a woman who was not his wife and one he had been sleeping with for a while now. He'd also killed someone, something that soon became apparent she couldn't handle.

So where did they go from here?

"Oh yeah; you don't care about her," a voice said sarcastically from a short distance away and Chase swung around in surprise to see House limping towards him.

"It's late, Taub had to go home to his wife. I thought I'd stay nearby in case her family needed to ask any questions," Chase responded in a defensive tone – the last thing he needed was for his boss to start up with another one of his hunches about how the blonde was hopelessly in love with the dying young woman and how they were both doomed.

House sent him a look, clearly stating that he thought that was the lamest excuse he'd ever heard. "Where's Foreman?"

"I don't know. Getting dinner, maybe?"

House looked thoughtful. "You'd think the mother of his dead child would have some priority over food."

The blonde shook his head and looked back in on Thirteen. "We all have our own ways of coping with things." He had a feeling Foreman was still looking for his.

The older doctor nodded, taking that in. After a moment he continued, tone bright with false nonchalance. "I have hot new gossip. Want to listen?"

Chase frowned and glanced back at him before jerking his head in a show for them to head away from the room. Whatever came out of House's mouth next, he didn't want it to be within accidental hearing range of Thirteen's family – He didn't want the man was about to see but, knowing him, it could only be bad.

Walking down the hallway, House followed after his retreating steps with a shrug.

"Thirteen's in a coma," Chase started, staring at the doctor in disbelief. "She could be dying right now and we still don't know what's wrong with her. And you're focused on _gossip_?" After all, Chase knew the man could be heartless but there had at least been some small part of him that believed he cared for the welfare of his employees.

"It's good gossip," House responded as if that was reason enough.

The blonde shook his head in disbelief; why did he even bother? "Fine. Go ahead."

"Thirteen has an illegitimate love child."

He frowned in confusion. "No she doesn't." He was fairly certain, anyway. Chase had been to her apartment many times and never had he seen any kid there. Plus, he didn't think he'd be alone in saying that Remy Hadley certainly didn't look like she had ever had a baby.

Still, his mind strayed back to something working its way at the edges of his memory and he frowned, lost in thought. Perhaps . . .

That train of thought was interrupted by House's voice as he continued their conversation.

"Claire Hadley eyes look just like Thirteen's eyes, meaning she has Thirteen's mother's eyes. If she was only Thirteen's half sister, then she wouldn't have the fist Mrs. Hadley's eyes," the cripple pointed out as if his reasoning was perfectly logical. It might have been, too, in a court run by psychiatric patients.

Chase stared at him for a moment in disbelieving silence. "Only you could use that as evidence for something like this." He sighed and stepped a little closer to the older doctor. "Claire's what, eight, nine years old? For her to be Thirteen's daughter she would have had to have been born when she was about seventeen. It also doesn't explain why she's not even a part of Thirteen's life. They have the same eyes, but that's not evidence, House, that's picking at straws."

House, for his part, didn't look fazed and Chase knew he hadn't convinced him at all. "Also, Cameron used to go out with Thirteen's brother," he added innocently and the blonde knew he was just resisting to urge to smirk.

Chase blinked, that having been the last thing he was expecting to come out of House's mouth. "What?"

"I know, big shock. Especially the fact that it means she's been holding out on us about Mystery Girl's dirty little secrets. She's a better liar than I thought. Though, technically I've never asked her any questions about Thirteen before now so she's actually a better secret keeper than I first thought."

Chase however was still trying to process the fact that the young man in Thirteen's room was his wife's ex. "She broke up with me and went straight back to her ex." _Hmm._ He should feel very insulted about this, maybe even hurt. Instead he just felt a profound amount of disbelief . . . and an illogical urge to burst into laughter; The situation was just so unreal and while Chase was considering punching Thirteen's brother right now for possibly sleeping with his wife, if Benny Hadley knew about any of this he would probably just as soon pummel the blonde into the ground for 'taking advantage' of his little sister, and to witness and poke fun at the whole affair was none other than one Gregory House, who looked to be the only one actually enjoying himself. It was at this moment that Robert Chase knew that his life was in fact a soap opera; there was just no other explanation for what went on in it. He'd had his suspicions before but this sold it.

House, however, didn't look at all sympathetic for his plight. "Except that he's apparently a priest so her going back to him wasn't really going _back_ to him. Tough competition, though. I mean, you killed a guy and he's basically the male form of the virgin marry." The blonde scowled at his boss's words, even more so once he heard the next ones out of his mouth. "She's never going to take you back with _that _hanging around."

"Thankyou. For that input." It was times like these that he remembered why he put up with all this; it was times like these that he was reminded just how rewarding working for House could be. Chase nearly rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Just trying to help." _Of course you were._ House frowned suddenly and glanced back in the direction of Thirteen's room. "How's she doing?" Was that concern the blonde actually sensed in the other man's tone? Was House _concerned_ for _Thirteen_?

Absolutely not; the idea was ridiculous. He must have imagined it.

Chase sighed and followed his gaze. "She's stable. Or as stable as anyone in a coma can be."

House frowned once more, eyes dark. "Find Foreman and drag him back to the differential room."

. . .

House looked around at his tired old ducklings, gaze falling on Taub in surprise. "What are you doing here? Chase said you went home."

Taub looked uncomfortable and shifted in his seat. "I didn't feel right going home, things being how they are. The sooner we get this case solved the sooner Thirteen will be OK."

House nodded in apparent understanding. "The sooner you can get home and have sex with your wife with a clear conscience." This comment got him matching looks of annoyance from all around the room; _like it wasn't the truth_. He shrugged his shoulders and turned to the whiteboard. "Thirteen's in a coma. Why?"

"Could be brain damage," Chase suggested, looking very much like he was trying to withhold a tired yawn. "Something could have been missed on the MRI."

"You think we missed something?" Taub asked, looking relatively insulted. "The _both_ of us?"

House however seemed to be agreeing with Chase. "Foreman's distracted, you're . . . well I'm sure there's something going on with you. Cheating on your wife again? Your wife cheating?"

Taub stared at him, unimpressed. "We're fine."

Foreman sighed tiredly and rubbed the bridge of nose. "Chase is right. We could have missed something. We should do another MRI just to check."

"Agreed," House decided. "On the off-chance that this is an actual symptom, let's talk possibilities." The room remained silent and the only response he got was three tired stares. "What? No-one? What did I hire you all for?"

"Her symptoms don't add up," Foreman sighed as if that was any help. What _did_ he hire them all for?

"Symptoms always add up. We just haven't figured out to what yet," their boss denied, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at their idiocy. "Which means we're stupid."

"Which means we need a good night's sleep," Chase corrected. "We're the walking dead at the moment. We've been trying to find out what's wrong with Thirteen since yesterday and I don't know about you but I haven't slept a wink yet."

House frowned but didn't respond; like Chase he had been kept up all night, trying figure this out and, also like Chase, (though he would never admit it) his worry for Thirteen hadn't allowed him any rest. Not that this was anything big. People got sick all the time, people died. Thirteen might just be one of those people and the fact shouldn't bother him. Her Huntington's had never been of any major concern for him before so why should this? She was just another employee, completely unimportant.

Regardless, he sent them all home and returned to his whiteboard, eyeing the symptoms up with a challenging eye. There had to be something . . .

. . .

Chase slammed the door behind him as he returned home. He set his keys down on the side table and wandered sleepily over to the kitchen, searching for the takeaway leftovers from a couple of nights ago. Despite being kept in the fridge, they were likely off by now but the blonde could hardly care less.

His mind was foggy and hazed with tiredness and all he really wanted right now was to jump into bed and turn off the light. He couldn't think about anything right now. Not work, not Cameron and especially not Thirteen.

Regardless, twenty minutes after eating what was probably the foulest food he had ever tasted and getting ready for a good night's sleep, Chase lay awake in bed, thinking about those exact things. He couldn't understand it; he was dead tired and yet still he couldn't get any sleep.

It was that stupid brain of his, keeping him up all night with chaotic thoughts of Cameron and Thirteen, even though they were the last things he wanted to think about. There wasn't even a general pattern to the thoughts. One moment he would be wondering what Cameron was doing back and the next he would remember that he still had Thirteen's shirt under his bed, forgotten from the last time she had visited. He would just be thinking about getting around to returning it to her when he would remember she was in a coma and otherwise unavailable. And then he would start to worry – about Thirteen, about Cameron, about _everything_.

It was times like these he wished he was more like House. The bugger was probably fast asleep right now without care in the world. Well, that or annoying Wilson. Or Cuddy.

Chase groaned and sat up, searching the room for anything to help put him to sleep. On his bedside table there was an unopened bottle of whisky and he frowned contemplatively. He'd bought it back in one of his bad patches after Cameron left but once he'd found out that Thirteen was a great distraction from what usually drove him to the bottle he hadn't actually gotten around to drinking it.

That was how it should remain. Chase knew that no good could come of going down the path of an alcoholic and since he was already bordering on that the last thing he should do was topple right over that border with reckless abandon.

But Thirteen's face, still and lifeless as she lay in her hospital bed, swam into his mind and, almost without deciding to, Chase swallowed and reached for the whiskey.


	16. Folder of Secrets

_**A/N: Not too proud of this chapter, especially since the first part seems a little too mushy but ah well. I'll see if I can do better next time. It starts off taking place during the previous chapter, basically showing what some of the other characters were doing. If anyone wants me to do a little scene from one character's perspective in particular, and it can be any character from the show, just ask and I'll see what I can do.**_

_**Thanks a bunch for the reviews.**_

_**. . .**_

_(Meanwhile)_

Benny Hadley watched his sister closely, looking out for any sign that something more was going to go wrong. He was a coward – it was a conclusion he'd come to shortly after arriving. He'd taken a couple of steps inside Remy's room, seen the full extent of her condition, and had backtracked quietly out whilst his father remained distracted. He still had yet to go back in and it had already been two hours.

"How is she?" a soft, gentle voice asked as the speaker came up beside him.

The Priest closed his eyes for a moment, revelling in that voice. When Cameron had shown up back in his life two months ago he had been more than overjoyed to see her again, considering she had disappeared not too long after his sister. It was comforting to know that at least one of them could come back and if Allison managed it then why couldn't his sister? He also had a soft spot in his heart for the young doctor and had a feeling he always would.

She was the only woman he had ever been in love with and for that reason alone she would always be special.

"No change," he responded quietly, turning his head slightly to look at her. She looked as tired as he felt. "Where's Claire?"

"I hope I wasn't overstepping my bounds but Taub offered to take her back home with him to his wife. I realize I probably should have asked your permission first but he was leaving and Claire really didn't look like she wanted to hang around," Allison babbled, gazing at him anxiously.

Benny shook his head. "No, it's fine. I think you made the right decision and I trust your judgement of people. I'm sure Dr. Taub and his wife will take good care of her." He sighed, thinking about the little girl. "She's not happy."

The blonde smiled sympathetically at him. "No, she's not. But she's young; she doesn't understand everything that's happened."

Benny's lips quirked slightly at that comment. "I'm an adult and even I don't understand everything that's happened."

There was a long pause in which their shared smiles faded away and Allison shifted uncomfortably beside him. He could tell she was preparing herself for something. "I'm sorry I never told you where she was."

The young man shook his head. "I'm glad you didn't." At her surprised look, he continued. "Don't get me wrong, nothing would have made me happier than to see my sister again, it was what I wanted more than anything in the world. But I wanted her to come home on her own, going after her would have just made her run again. It wouldn't have changed anything."

"Still . . . I'm sorry."

Benny just nodded and turned his gaze back on his sister. To the outside viewer she looked just like she was sleeping, simple and as non-life-threatening as that. "It's been years since the last time I saw her, she's grown up so much, but I still see the little girl that used to put spiders in my hair. Is that strange?"

"Which part?" Cameron asked with a small smile. "The part where a little girl actually chose to go anywhere near spiders let alone put them in her brother's hair or the part where you still see her as that little girl?"

"Well, I already know the first is strange; Remy's always been a bit odd. I was just wondering whether I was just as strange." He didn't think he'd mind that too much. Having something in common with his sister wasn't an idea he despised. Maybe it would make him understand her a little better, like he never had before.

Allison shook her head with a gentle smile. "It's not strange. You love her, when you look at her you see her at her best. There's nothing wrong with that. Just because she's a grown up now doesn't mean you have to see her as one."

He nodded his head, considering that. His father brushed a stray strand of hair out of Remy's face through the window and she still gave no sign that she knew he was there. "She has Huntington's, doesn't she?" he guessed quietly.

Allison looked startled. "How did you-"

"Even after she disappeared from our lives she used to send me regular letters, phone calls; just to let us know she was alright. Almost two years ago, they just stopped. I couldn't think of any reasons why she would do that unless she had decided to sever all ties with us. And the only thing I could think of for why she would do that is because she had Huntington's." He glanced over at the blonde who was now gnawing nervously on her bottom lip. It was answer enough. "I guess I was right."

She gazed at him for a moment, mouth open but no words coming out. It was clear she didn't know what to say to that and seemed to be battling over the right response in her head. "I am so sorry."

Benny didn't respond to that. "I know I have to go in there. She's my little sister and I need to be there for her. But I can't. Because if she's dying, I don't want this to be how I remember her. If I stay out here I can still see the little girl with spiders. If I go inside, that disappears."

Allison's eyes welled up and, hesitantly, she reached out and took his hand. "She's not going to die."

She'd always been a good liar and it was only now that he appreciated the skill.

. . .

Claire picked absentmindedly at her breakfast cereal, watching as the Taubs went about their normal morning routine. This included Dr. Taub trying on various ties and asking his wife's advice whilst Rachael went about making them both breakfast. The blonde found that she liked the Taubs. They weren't overly false like some of her friend's parents who put on happy shows like they were trying to convince not only the world but themselves that everything was alright. The Taubs were just very real, she could sense that. And they were nice, even if it was clear that neither one of them had any idea what to do with a kid once they got a hold of one.

"Don't you like your cereal?" Dr. Taub asked in concern, finally settling on a plain black tie.

"I'm just not very hungry."

Rachael glanced at her sympathetically from her position beside the toaster. "Worried about your sister?"

Claire scowled at the reminder of Remy Hadley. "No." The couple exchanged a glance and the little girl's frown deepened. "Why should I be? I don't even know her."

"That's a fair point," Taub agreed a moment before the toast popped up. "So are you not worried because you're not worried or because you don't think you should be?"

"I'm not worried," Claire began, stabbing at her cereal with her spoon, "because she doesn't deserve to be worried about."

Dr. Taub sighed and glanced at his wife. "House would be overjoyed if he was in my position right now," he commented, finding the nine-year-old girl very similar to one of his boss's favourite Rubik's Cubes.

. . .

Taub walked into the differential room to find everyone else already there, including Cameron who was seated as far away as possible from Chase who was next to Foreman. Taking pity on the newly returned doctor, Taub pulled up the chair beside her.

From what he could tell, Chase seemed to be suffering from the common monster known as a hangover and Taub felt immediately sorry for him. Especially since House seemed to have noticed this as well and was using every possible chance to make loud noises around the blonde's head.

"Where's Claire?" Cameron asked, worry coming into her eyes.

"Rachael doesn't have work today so she said it would be alright if Claire stayed with her, I hope you don't mind. She_ really _didn't want to come back here," Chris explained with an apologetic look.

Cameron sighed and forced a smile. "No, that's fine. Tell your wife, 'thanks'."

"Not from me," House spoke up. "I've been hanging out to see Thirteen Jr. all day. She has such spunk for a kid."

The blonde woman rolled her eyes and turned back to face her former boss. "Please, I'd die before I left her alone with you for a morning."

House pretended to look hurt. "What is it that you think I'd do to her? I swear I mean her no harm." His only response was unimpressed looks all around and, giving up, House turned back to his white board. "Did you run another MRI?"

Foreman nodded. "I did when I came in this morning. Nothing showed up. Her brain's fine. No trauma, no masses, nothing."

"Which means the coma has to have been caused by something else," he said thoughtfully, gazing at the whiteboard.

"What about Melioidosis?" Taub suggested. "It explains the fever, the headaches and the abdominal pain. And it can cause comas if untreated."

"But not the nosebleeds, hallucinations or the fainting. She also hasn't been coughing, no shortness of breath either," House responded, tossing the idea aside. "Keep guessing."

"Meningitis," Cameron stated. "Causes high fever, headaches, nausea, vomiting, fatigue and confusion. Even coma."

"It also causes photophobia and stiff neck. Anyone notice if she has any light sensitivity?" House retorted.

"We should at least test for it," the blonde persisted. "If we're wrong and pass this over she could get brain damage, she could _die_." Everyone in the room stilled, taking in her words. "Maybe she does have those symptoms and she just didn't tell us about them. It's not like we can ask her now that she's in a coma. We _need_ to check."

House thought about it for a moment before finally relenting. "Go run a blood culture, see if she has any bacteria in her blood stream. But if you're wrong then you just wasted valuable time."

Cameron rose from her seat, unperturbed. "If I'm right, then I just saved Thirteen's life."

. . .

Rachael gazed at the young girl who sat opposite her at the dining room table, drawing studiously on a piece of paper. Her pencils and the pyjamas she still wore had come along with her suitcase that Chris had taken off Cameron.

"What are you drawing?" she asked, surmising that it seemed like an appropriate question in a situation like this.

Claire shrugged her shoulders. "Don't know yet." She glanced up at her, a curious expression on her face. "Do you have kids?"

Rachael shook her head hastily. "No."

"Do you want them?"

She was reminded of the conversation she'd had with Chris last year, in which she'd been seriously afraid for their marriage if his answer to that question was, 'yes'. She still was, a little bit. "No. I'm happy with my life how it is."

Claire nodded her head and returned to her drawing. "That's smart. Kids ruin everything."

Rachael frowned disbelievingly. "I don't think they ruin everything. I just don't think I'd be ready for the responsibility."

The little blonde just shook her head. "They ruin everything."

Frown deepening, the woman rose from her seat and walked around the table until she was beside Claire. The little girl didn't glance up as she continued to draw and Rachael could make out the shape of a little black bird, and over towards the edge of the page a flock of white doves flying away. It was very good for a nine-year-old.

Rachael smiled. "You're very talented." Claire glanced up, a wide beam on her face as her earlier foul mood dissipated.

"Do you want to help me colour in?"

Rachael nodded and pulled out the chair beside her, taking a seat. Reaching for a green pencil she grinned. "I haven't done this since I was a kid."

"You should do it more often. It's fun."

_Fun; _Rachael had almost forgotten the meaning of that word.

. . .

House frowned through the window at Thirteen, who for once since her family had arrived was alone. It always surprised him how much like being asleep a person in a coma could look, or a person who was dead. It seemed to go against some kind of universal rule – a person should look how they were. He'd thought the same thing after Kutner died; how could someone who was so miserable as to kill themselves look so jolly day in and day out? It was stupid and frustrating but House doubted that the universe would take pity on him and fix the problem just because he thought it was, so he stopped.

He'd never admit it, least of all to himself (and especially not to Wilson because he would never let him live it down) but he was worried. House was worried about Thirteen. He cocked his head to the side; it had a funny sort of ring to it. House was not worried about Thirteen but rather about the fact that all of his employees seemed to be dropping like flies and if word got out to young future House fellows he might one day be out of people to torture; Yes, that sounded more like him. House was worried because Cuddy hadn't been wearing too many low-cut tops lately; much better.

Just as long as he kept on believing that, everything would be fine.

The doctor's eyes strayed over to the heart monitor in Thirteen's room and he watched the steady rise and fall of the lines across the screen. At least her heart seemed to be doing OK. That was one thing off the list of stuff to worry about.

_Now, back to the problem with Cuddy and her cleavage . . ._

House was distracted from his train of thought by none other than Lucas, who was walking towards him like an over-excited puppy. The doctor was sorely tempted to say, 'Stay dog. Sit! That's a good doggy,' but somehow restrained himself. He also had to resist the urge to trip the guy over with his cane. He'd do it another day when he didn't actually need the P.I.

"I got that file you wanted," Lucas informed him and House felt a grin tug at his lips; excellent.

"Have you looked at it yet?"

The guy looked at him like he was crazy and handed over the folder in his hand. "Are you kidding? I feel bad enough digging up dirt on one of your employees who's currently in a coma. I'm not about to read the dirt on top of that." He shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "Besides, she gave me a cookie once."

House accepted the folder and raised an eyebrow at him. "How touching," he deadpanned before flipping the file open to get a look at its juicy contents.

Lucas didn't seem to take any offence and instead glanced nervously over at Thirteen through the window as if she could somehow see what they were doing. Idiot. "How is she?"

"Still in a coma," he replied distractedly, eyes scanning through one page in particular. _'Child's name: Claire-Alice Annie Hadley_

_D.O.B: . . .' _House's lips thinned into a tight line as he continued to read, searching out the information he desired.

"Anything interesting?" Lucas asked.

House resisted the urge to hit the guy as he was interrupted and instead decided on a glare. "If there was, you would know; trust me, I'd have one of those maniac grins on my face that always come up on those good vs. evil movies and the bad guy thinks he wins, which, let's be honest, if those movies were at all realistic he would. Now, shut-up and let me keep reading."

Lucas didn't look at all chagrined and, resigned to the fact, the doctor returned his gaze to the file.

"Anything now?" he asked after a pause.

"Would you shut-up?"

. . .


End file.
